


Fates Entwined

by VampireNaomi



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, Organized Crime, Possessive Behavior, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 59,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireNaomi/pseuds/VampireNaomi
Summary: Lupin crosses a line that neither he nor Zenigata knew existed and forces the two of them to re-evaluate what they want from each other. On top of that, a highly classified case soon brings everyone to a Swiss ski resort full of secrets. Based on episode 82 of Red Jacket.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place almost immediately after episode 82 of Red Jacket, which includes some of the best Lupin/Zenigata material, if you ask me. I can't promise fast updates, but I'll do my best. Since this is directly inspired by Red Jacket, I'll try to keep technology and politics appropriate for the 70s. If you notice something off, it'd make me really grateful if you pointed it out. Thanks!

The orange hue of the setting sun greeted him when he stepped inside his hotel room. The window was facing west, and there were no buildings or trees to block the light from coming in. Someone had pulled the curtains aside, so to Zenigata it looked like he'd walked into a scene from a fairytale.

He felt nothing like it. His worn-out suitcase, mended multiple times and still in one piece only because he was so good at fixing broken things, fell from his hand with a thud. He shuffled to the window and was about to pull the curtains over it, but he stopped for a moment to look at the sky.

Sunsets made him melancholy. They were a sign that another day was ending without success. And then he always thought of Japan and how long he'd been away from home. Years already. He'd spent that time chasing one man around the world, never getting to stay in one place long enough to grow attached. He slept in cheap hotels like this, ate whatever he could afford, and had to listen to the same lecture everywhere he went – how was it possible that he hadn't captured his target when he'd had so much time and so many opportunities?

These brief moments as the day was ending were the only time when he allowed himself to admit that he wanted to go home. He wanted food that tasted right, to go to the bathhouse in his neighborhood, to hear familiar songs when he turned on the radio. Not to feel like a stranger all the time. But for as long as he hadn't finished what he'd sworn to do, the only return he could have was as a failure.

The curtains were loud in his ears as he pulled them over the window. The room grew comfortably dim, and he sat down on his bed. It creaked under his weight. Zenigata had slept on beds like this often enough to know that he'd wake up with his back aching. It was getting harder to decide if the blame lay in the mattresses or his age.

Then again, the bed had to be more comfortable than lying tied up on the floor, which was how he'd spent the previous night. Even then, it could have been worse. The terrorists who'd caught him hadn't been cruel. They'd even apologized for the canned food they'd fed him. Had they not been crooked enemies of justice, Zenigata might have assured them that it was better than what he normally had for dinner.

All their patience with him had ended when he'd tried to kill himself and take them with him. Zenigata held his hands in his lap, determined not to let them shake. He'd wanted to die. For a brief moment, he'd been convinced it was better to blow himself up than suffer the disgrace of being rescued by his enemy.

It had been only for a couple of seconds, but each of them was burned in his memory. Lupin's smug, condescending smile as he negotiated for his release, the shame of becoming a burden to everyone, and the resentment when nobody had listened to him or cared about his pride as an officer.

The stick of dynamite he'd discovered had felt like a sign. He'd never forget the spiteful triumph of grabbing it with his teeth and throwing it into the fireplace. To hell with Lupin. A man should have the right to decide his own fate. If he said he'd rather die than accept his help, why could he not respect that?

When his attempt hadn't worked – because of Lupin, always because of him! – his tears had at first been those of frustration. Everything he did was a failure. He couldn't even end his life for a good cause like a man. But then he'd cried from relief. As soon as his insides had stopped boiling, he'd realized that he didn't want to die and how close he'd come to it. If the dynamite had been real...

His throat felt tight, even now, but he knew he had no tears left. His eyes still burned from when he'd watched Lupin's helicopter crash into the woods and explode. At that moment, he had regretted his angry outburst in the cabin. Lupin had come to rescue him, and it had cost him his life.

No, worse. It was Zenigata's fault. If he hadn't accepted Napoleon's proposal to have revenge on Lupin, his men wouldn't have attacked him. Zenigata hadn't thought anyone would actually be hurt. He'd just wanted Lupin to be captured and to feel the same humiliation and helplessness he had.

Two thoughts had entered his mind when he'd been watching the destruction. First, that Lupin was a great man and worthy of his respect. Second, it would have been better if his suicide hadn't failed because then Lupin would still be alive.

Even now that he knew they hadn't found any bodies in the helicopter and that Lupin had most likely survived, he couldn't shed the wariness off his shoulders. He was exhausted. His confident words to the chief felt hollow. Just how many more times would he have to go through the same thing and be nothing but a joke in other people's games? He respected Lupin and saw him as a worthy rival, but if the day's events were of any indication, the feeling wasn't mutual.

A knock at the door brought him back from his gloomy thoughts. 

“Who is it?”

“Room service!”

He was up and half-way to the door when he remembered that he hadn't ordered anything. Strange. Well, the polite thing to do was to tell them there had been a mistake.

“I think you've gotten me mixed up with someone else,” he said when he opened the door. There was a young woman there with a trolley that was carrying multiple cloches of different sizes, a bottle of wine, and a basket full of fresh bread. A delicate vase with a red rose made the whole set-up look classier than this dingy hotel had any right to attempt.

“Oh, no, that can't be, sir,” she said. “The order was definitely for this room. I took the call myself.”

“But I never –”

“It's already been paid for. If you don't take it, we're going to have to throw it away.”

The woman was starting to look a little distressed, and Zenigata didn't feel like wasting his time arguing with her. He thanked her and stepped aside so that she could push the trolley into his room. She said she hoped he'd enjoy the food and to call the front desk if he needed anything else.

Once alone again, Zenigata eyed the trolley with some wariness. It had to be a mistake. Maybe the person who'd made the order was a foreigner like him and had said the wrong room number. But if the food was just going to be thrown away, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if he had some?

Curious, he raised the largest cloche to see what was under it. Instantly, he was assaulted by a thick, creamy smell that made his mouth water. It was a pot, full to the brim with some sort of pale stew. There were generous pieces of meat, onions, and vegetables he couldn't name in it. He couldn't even _remember_ the last time he'd had good meat.

Clang! Zenigata put the cloche back, frightened by the food. Next, he looked under the one to the left and found potatoes, still so hot they were steaming. There was butter for the bread, delicate glasses for the wine, and cutlery that looked like they were real silver. The napkins were handmade. Peering under the last cloche revealed cream puffs so rich they might have been clouds.

He felt like he was on the verge of tears again. He'd never eaten anything like this. Whoever had ordered this had taste and money. But the worst realization was that there was so much of everything that it was clearly meant for two. And with the rose there, he didn't need to think twice about what kind of a set-up this was. Somehow, somebody's romantic dinner had been sent to his room.

“I can't eat this,” he said. It was wrong. Somewhere out there, there was a couple whose evening was going to be ruined. If he had any honor and work ethic, he'd find them and give them back what was theirs.

Except that the idea of walking out of that door was exhausting. He just wanted to go to bed and forget about everything for a while. Didn't he deserve a break, just a small one? And he was hungry. All he had was a sandwich that had been in his suitcase for three days, a chocolate bar, and teabags. Having this amazing dinner delivered to his room had to be some kind of a cruel joke.

For a brief moment, he considered tasting just a bit. Nobody would notice. He might not get a chance like this again. And didn't he deserve to have something nice for a change? He tried to hard, and he never got any thanks or rewards.

He was already reaching for the bread when he came to his senses. Just where was his backbone? He hadn't picked this career because he was after fame. He wanted to make the world a better place. Right now, he couldn't put a twisted criminal behind bars or save a drowning child, but at least he could make sure that the food went to the people who'd paid for it.

With a resigned sigh, he walked over to his nightstand and picked up the phone.

“Hello? Front desk? This is Zenigata from room 402. You just brought me dinner.”

“Oh, yes!” replied a bright, male voice. “I remember that order very well. What can I do for you? Is something not to your liking?”

“No, everything's fine. Except that this isn't mine. I didn't pay for it. I can't in good conscience accept this.”

“My, aren't you virtuous!” The man's voice was tight with amusement, and Zenigata had to resist the urge to slam the receiver down. Even the staff was laughing at him. It was their damn mistake!

“I'm leaving the trolley outside my room. Send someone up to get it and find who really ordered it. Goodbye!” he said.

With a heavy heart, he moved the trolley to the hallway and returned to his room. He took off his coat and was surprised by how much lighter his shoulders felt without it. He was about to sit back on the bed and kick off his shoes, but there was again a knock at his door.

“Who is it?”

“Room service!”

“You again? Didn't I tell you that –” Zenigata's angry words were cut off when he marched to open the door and saw that it wasn't the woman from before. Instead, it was a man dressed in red and with a squat hat standing crooked on his head so that it almost covered his eyes. 

The man noticed he was staring and offered him a toothy grin. “We're a little busy, so I stepped in to help since nobody's checking in. Now, about this dinner –”

“This hotel doesn't have a bellhop!”

The man yelped in surprise when Zenigata grabbed the front of his uniform and pulled him into his room. With practised ease, he wormed his way out of the jacket so that he was wearing only the white shirt underneath. The skin on his face stretched as he pulled it and then snapped off, revealing features that Zenigata knew all too well.

“Lupin! I should have known.” The words sounded feeble in his ears. He felt none of the rush of excitement and determination that Lupin's name – not to mention his goddamn face – usually evoked in him. He was tired. Instead of making a plunge to grab his rival and put him in the handcuffs with his name engraved on them that he always carried around, he stumbled backwards and sat down on his bed.

Lupin let out a chuckle and put his hands on his hips. He was standing slanted, most of his weight on his left side, and his smile was crooked the same way. It made Zenigata think all of him was twisted. He should have taken such carefree arrogance as another insult against law and justice, but all he could manage was a faint, aching throb somewhere inside his ribcage. 

“Wow, Pops. You seem exhausted. Maybe it's time to start thinking about retirement?”

He'd been through hell and cried so much, and this bastard had the nerve to walk into his room looking like that. It was like stepping on his already battered sense of self-worth and smiling while he did it. Zenigata couldn't help but feel like it was a stab to the back. He'd thought Lupin would at least have enough decency to let him get back on his feet before showing up to gloat.

“Get out,” he croaked.

“Huh? What's that? Aren't you at least going to try to arrest me?”

“I said, get out.”

“Are you sure? What if I take all this great food with me?” Lupin stepped back into the hallway and pushed the trolley into the room.

Zenigata didn't respond. He lifted his feet on the bed and lied down. Hopefully Lupin would get the message. He couldn't do this now. The next day, he'd feel better and chase him to the other end of the earth. But for just tonight, couldn't he let him be?

There was a sound as Lupin lifted one of the cloches, and the heavenly aroma of the food filled the room again. Zenigata gritted his teeth and listened to Lupin take a plate and fill it, then grab a seat and sit down to eat.

“Mm, this is delicious! I had it delivered from the best restaurant in Paris. You sure you don't want any?”

Just go away, Zenigata thought numbly.

“I really think you should join me here. I bet you can't afford to eat like this otherwise.”

Zenigata draped an arm over his face. His eyes were stinging and his throat felt tight. He was going to cry again. It wasn't normally something he wanted to hide, but with Lupin being like this, it felt like the final kick to his dignity.

There was a click as Lupin set down his cutlery. A scraping sound as he pushed back his chair and stood up. In the span of the couple of seconds it took for his footsteps to reach the bed, Zenigata was shaking with sobs.

“Hey, Pops, what's wrong? What reason do you have to cry now?”

“Why did you come here?”

“To check up on you. It was a pretty rough day for everyone, huh?” Lupin's voice was candied with a smirk, but Zenigata no longer felt like he was outright mocking him. He risked a glance from under his arm to see Lupin standing by his bed, looking down at him.

“So, I thought I'd buy you dinner. That was pretty nice of me, if I say so myself.”

“Since when do you care about being nice to me? We're supposed to hate each other!”

“I know you don't hate me,” Lupin said. The mattress shifted as he sat down on the foot of the bed. “And I don't hate you.”

Some other day, Zenigata might have been moved by such words. His tears would have been those of joy and pride. But now he couldn't help but think that Lupin not hating him meant he wasn't worth even that in his eyes.

“You only came here to mock me. That's all you ever do. Like today, when I said I didn't want your help –”

Lupin cut him off with an impatient sound. “Was I supposed to leave you to die, then? Is that what you wanted? Because the government wouldn't have traded you for a terrorist leader, no matter how inept and harmless.”

Of course that's what he'd wanted, Zenigata wanted to say, but that was a lie. He was prepared to die on duty, but it wasn't what he was after. If Lupin hadn't cared at all, it would have broken his heart. But he hadn't wanted it to be like that, with Lupin exchanging pleasantries with his kidnappers and acting like the whole thing was another funny stunt to pull.

“You could have shown at least a little respect for my feelings,” he said.

“That might have been the nice thing to do, yeah,” Lupin said. “But imagine what it would have looked like. What if someone thought we're on good terms? It'd be pretty suspicious. They might sack you, and then, what would have been the point of getting you back alive?”

Zenigata hadn't thought of that. He liked to think of it as one of his strengths, but he knew others thought it was his greatest weakness that he let his heart lead him. Deceit and lies didn't come naturally to him, but he'd fallen for Lupin's tricks enough times that he'd learned to use some of his own methods against him. But this time, he hadn't even considered that Lupin might have been trying to fool everyone.

He sat up and wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve. “Oh... You did that on purpose. You didn't want to cause me any problems.”

“I can't deny that I like seeing you fall on your face, but this time I just wanted to make sure you got out alive. It's no fun being a thief without a rival.”

That made Zenigata feel a little better. Lupin was one of the most notorious thieves in the world. There would always be someone chasing him. He knew that. But he'd still chosen to help him even though he could have just waited to see who his replacement would be. Lupin hadn't said it, but Zenigata mentally added “And my rival can only be you” to his words. He couldn't imagine putting this much effort into trying to catch any other criminal. It had to be the same for Lupin.

“That's one of the sweetest things you've ever said to me. Thank you,” he admitted, a lump in his throat.

Lupin laughed, and the way he turned to look away made him appear bashful. Zenigata didn't usually make note of how much younger he was, but now he couldn't help it. For the brief moment that Lupin refused to meet his eyes, he looked nothing like himself.

He coughed into his hand. “Must have been a hard day for you, too. I'm surprised you don't have a scratch from the helicopter crash.”

“Oh, that,” Lupin said eagerly, as if glad to change the subject. “That was nothing. I wasn't actually on that thing.”

“What? But I saw Goemon pull you in!”

“That was just His Highness dolled up to look like me. And the helicopter didn't crash. Jigen threw a grenade inside after they'd landed.”

“Wait, wait... That can't be. Napoleon was with me. We watched his men shoot you down.”

Lupin's laughter had an embarrassed sound to it. “Actually, that was me.”

“Oh, then it makes sense. But...” Zenigata's voice faded as he understood what Lupin's words meant. Lupin had seen and heard everything. His pitiful crying fit when he'd thought he was gone, his begging for him to come back and face him, his confession that he was more to him than an enemy. And he'd just stood there.

“If that was you, then why didn't you say so?”

Lupin frowned. “Hm? What was I supposed to say?”

“You... you could have told me you were fine! You saw how upset I was!”

“You're always upset when something like that happens. Besides, the police were on their way. I had to switch places with Napoleon so that you could arrest him and not be written off as incompetent by the chief.”

“What? I don't need you to do my job for me!”

The look Lupin gave him was one of utter bafflement. “What are you getting mad about _now?_ I did you a favor, Pops! You came out of that one looking really good!”

“Do you think I care about that? I thought you were dead and that it was my fault!”

Did Lupin really not get how heartbroken he'd been, even though he'd seen everything? Was he that selfish and shallow? This whole stunt was starting to look less and less like something that Lupin had done because he wanted to be nice to him and more like he'd just wanted to make sure everything went back to normal because that was what _he_ liked.

“The chief praised me for coming up with this plot and using you to capture the terrorists. But it was all you. I did nothing,” he went on. A worrying thought was beginning to take form. How many of his past accomplishments had been just that, nothing more than Lupin pulling the strings behind the scenes to give him a consolation prize for not arresting him? To stop him from being moved to another case since he wasn't making any progress?

“What does it matter? And don't tell me you didn't like it. You got pretty excited there and promised to dedicate your life to arresting me.”

“How do you know what I said?”

Lupin pointed a finger to where Zenigata's coat was hanging. “There's a bug in your pocket. I wanted to make sure everything went according to plan.”

Zenigata made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat and got up to rummage through his coat. Sure enough, there was a bug stuck to the inside of the pockets. He tore it off and examined it between his fingers.

“According to plan, huh?” he repeated. He tossed the bug at Lupin who caught it before it would have hit his face. It might have been a good idea to hold onto it. Lupin made most of his tech himself, so Zenigata was sure the guys in the lab would have liked to take a look at it. But he was feeling flippant.

“I don't like your tone, Pops.”

“Good. I don't like being a pawn in your games.”

Lupin's frown deepened. “We already went through this. I was trying to help you.”

“Yeah, but what you're doing isn't helping. You don't listen to me, you don't care about what I want or need, and you delight in making me look like an idiot. It's just as much about you having your fun as it is about helping me. And besides...” Zenigata swallowed. “You aren't supposed to help me capture anyone. I'm grateful you wanted to save my life, but never meddle in my work!”

“And why not? If you're worried someone will notice and it'll cost you your job –”

“That's not it! I'm not your plaything! I have feelings, and today you've trampled all over them, and now you come here and expect me to be happy. You can't have it both ways. If you just want to mock me, fine. I'll wipe the smirk off your face one day. But if you say you respect me as your rival even a little bit, then you need to think about my feelings, too.”

“I didn't come here to listen to a lecture,” Lupin said, his tone a defensive whine. Zenigata realized with some surprise that what was making Lupin mad wasn't that he'd hurt his feelings. It was just that everything hadn't gone like he'd wanted. He had probably imagined that they'd have dinner together and he'd get to make fun of his low salary and lack of respect from his superiors. And then he'd wave bye-bye, jump out the window and return to his gang to tell them the funny story of how he'd been nice to his rival.

Lupin was a great man, but he was also horribly immature. It had never been as clear to Zenigata as now. And it hurt. He wasn't sure why this realization was like having something inside him popped with a needle, but in that moment, he he didn't know what to do.

He looked at Lupin. He was sitting on his bed, still wearing the stupid hat. He had both of his hands by his side on the cover, and his shoulders were hunched in a way that made it look like he was sulking. His mouth was an unhappy line. He was glaring at him with accusatory eyes, like Zenigata had just told him he was grounded.

“If you're going to be like that, Pops, this is no fun anymore.”

“It was only ever going to be fun to you.” But really, Zenigata thought, what did it matter? What else could he expect from Lupin? They weren't even supposed to be in the same room and talk like this, much less bond or comfort each other after a hard day. That he still hadn't made an attempt to arrest him was a violation of everything he claimed to stand for.

“Hmph.” Lupin got on his feet with a theatrical sigh. He picked up the uniform jacket from the floor and flung it over one shoulder. “I guess I'm not wanted here. If I had a doggy bag, I'd take the food with me to Jigen and Goemon. I bet _they_ wouldn't say no.”

They also didn't get turned into laughing stocks on regular basis and had no bribery charges and destroyed careers to worry about. Thinking about that gave Zenigata a little more determination. He was the one who was right here. Lupin was being unreasonable and petty, and for the life of him he couldn't understand what he was after.

“So, keep the food.”

“I'll feed it to the dogs!” Zenigata patted at his pockets to look for handcuffs, but they were all inside his coat. By the time he reached it and got out a pair, Lupin was already out the door. It came as no surprise that the hallway was empty with no sign of whether he'd gone left or right.

Half out of habit and half out of work ethic, Zenigata made a round through the hotel and asked about Lupin at the front desk, but nobody knew anything. It was almost a relief. With Lupin gone, he could return to his room without feeling like he wasn't doing his job.

The food was there, of course, but it no longer looked appetizing. His stomach turned as he watched Lupin's half-finished plate. The bastard had a lot of nerve doing something like this and then expecting gratitude. It was patronizing, and Zenigata didn't need that.

“I'm not an idiot. He should know,” he muttered as he began to clean Lupin's mess. He left the trolley outside his room and called the front desk again to let them know he wanted it taken away. The person who came to do it was the woman from before, and she apologized to him, telling him that the person who had made the order had said the whole think was a birthday prank.

“It's fine. Don't worry,” he assured her. He wished he could have felt the same. With Lupin gone, his room appeared larger and emptier than he remembered. He went to open the curtains, but the sun had almost set, and the room didn't grow much lighter. 

Somewhere in the darkening streets of Paris was Lupin, and Zenigata doubted his mood was any better. But at least he had people to go to. He brought his home with him wherever he went. Zenigata had thought that what kept _his_ heart at ease was his sense of duty and the determination that drove him. Now, after the day's events, he found himself doubting that certainty. Lupin had disappointed him. It was a crushingly lonely feeling.

He wasn't sure where to go from here. He'd promised the chief he'd keep pursuing Lupin, but could he really do that when he was feeling so disillusioned? He didn't even know the root of his sudden doubts. That maybe Lupin wasn't as honorable as he'd always wanted to think? That maybe he had imagined the unspoken trust and respect between them?

Lupin couldn't be a common crook like everyone else. Zenigata couldn't accept that. If that was all he was, then what had he sacrificed so much for while pursuing him?

The last lingering hues of the sun disappeared from the sky. The lights in the street and the windows of the surrounding buildings were a poor imitation, but they made Zenigata remember what he'd thought when he'd entered the room.

Japan. He should go home and think. Just a day before, requesting leave would have been unacceptable, the same as admitting defeat. Even now, it gave him an uneasy feeling, but he only had to remember Lupin's mocking tone and the long seconds when he'd prepared himself for death to know it was the right thing to do. If he took any pride in his work, he should be able to admit when he couldn't do it well enough.

He was sure his superiors would understand. He'd never taken a holiday. Nobody would think it weird that he needed some time to himself after being kidnapped by terrorists. He could say he was seeing family. Only natural after almost losing his life. Nobody would have to know that it was entirely because of one man that his questionless life was starting to crumble.


	2. Chapter 2

The train was packed. Zenigata was used to the idea that you always got a seat when traveling this far away in the countryside, but the train was full of commuters returning home. He should have thought of that, but since he wasn't going home himself, he hadn't realized just how many people in Sekiyama went to work in busier places.

It had been a sobering feeling to arrive in Japan and realize that he didn't own anything that he wasn't carrying in the suitcase that accompanied him around the world. He'd ended his lease and sold or given away most of his possessions when he'd made the decision to join the ICPO. If he was fired or decided to quit, he would have nothing to return to. He'd given up everything to catch Lupin.

They arrived at the station, and Zenigata followed the pull of the crowd to the platform. Everyone else knew where they were going, but he remained standing there, trying not to be in anyone's way and to find a familiar face somewhere. He couldn't help but feel a little nervous. It was years since he'd last seen his sister. What would she think if his eyes passed over her without recognition?

But then he saw someone raise their hand and wave, and a second later he was hit by a sense of warmth swelling inside him, so rapidly that he couldn't respond. Kazuko, his sister who had once been the most important person in his life and whom he'd left behind in more ways than one.

“Koichi! What are you just standing there for?”

He began walking, and soon his steps turned into a half-run until he could bury his sister into his arms. Kazuko was shorter, so he had to bend down almost comically, but he would have knelt if necessary. She hugged him back, and they were both crying buckets and making a scene. Other people circled around them and tried not to look.

“I didn't bring the others. I wanted to see you first,” she said. She clung to his coat, and he was momentarily reminded of how she'd followed him around when they'd been children. His friends had always laughed at him because he brought his little sister to play with them, but he hadn't wanted to leave her alone.

“I'm sorry I've been gone for so long.”

“It's fine. You had work.” She still wouldn't let go, and Zenigata wondered if she'd missed him _that_ much. They'd never cared whether it was disruptive to cry in public, but this was a lot even for her. But he was glad for the excuse to hold her a little longer.

He hadn't told her why he was coming back to Japan. There was no need to burden her with that. It was enough if she thought he was on his first holiday in years. Originally, he hadn't even been sure if he should meet her, but the prospect of spending two weeks alone in some motel and doing nothing had been unbearable. He'd seen enough of that all over the world. In his home country, at least, he wanted to feel like he had roots.

“I hope you aren't tired from the trip. It's not a long way home, but I came on foot,” Kazuko said.

“Are you kidding? I'm not in retirement age! Of course I can walk! I'll carry you on my shoulders, too, if you'd like!”

“Don't be silly! I'm too heavy!”

Zenigata doubted that. She looked smaller than he remembered, and as far as he was concerned, a little sister was never too heavy for her brother to carry. But she was also a wife and a mother, and with his absence of years from her life, he felt like there was a new distance that he had to respect.

He was a little nervous about meeting her husband. They'd gotten along the couple of times they'd talked, but they barely knew each other. Zenigata remembered that when he'd been younger, he had often imagined what the perfect husband for his sister would be like, and then she'd gone and married someone who was the exact opposite – over a decade younger than her, well-read, and an artist. Zenigata still didn't get it.

“Are you sure it's fine that I stay for so long? I can get a room in town,” he said as they left the station.

“Of course it's fine! I'm not making my brother pay for a room somewhere when we've got so many you can take.”

“What about your husband? You sure he doesn't think it's a bother?”

“He probably wouldn't even notice you around if I hadn't told him you're coming. And he might have forgotten anyway.”

Zenigata tried to come up with something to talk about as they walked. The railway station was the most modern building in town, having been renovated entirely only some five years ago, apparently. The further away from it they got, the narrower the street became. Houses stood on both sides of it, so close that sometimes there wasn't even room for a person to slip between them. When he looked up, electrical wires and phone lines were crisscrossing from one side to another. Spending time elsewhere had almost made him forget how cramped it could get, and he was even more grateful that he didn't have to stay in town.

The street grew wider as they left the town center and walked through a somewhat sparser residential area. Every now and then there were pine trees that were somehow managing to find space between two houses. It had rained earlier in the afternoon, and every lungful of air he took in smelled faintly of resin.

“How are the kids?” he asked. He'd never seen the youngest one, other than in baby photos that had taken embarrassingly long for him to get because he was always traveling.

“A little lively, but it's a big house, so it doesn't matter.”

“It just means they're healthy.”

“Makoto is so eager to meet you. He thinks it's amazing to have an uncle who's an inspector.”

Uncle. That was a word Zenigata found strange to associate with himself. He'd never been in these kids' lives. It made him both excited and a little guilty to think that he had that kind of family. There were some distant relatives, but he hadn't seen or heard from them in a long time. Neither of his parents had had siblings, so he didn't really have anyone but his sister and her family.

He should have been a better brother to her, he thought. Work had always come first. There were two things his father had asked him to remember the evening before he'd gone to war from which he'd never returned – that he should look after his family, and that it wasn't a shame for a man to cry.

There had been days when he'd had to spend all his time scraping together enough to keep his mother and sister fed, but later on, when life had stabilized once more, he should have –

“How long has it been since the last time you were here?” Kazuko asked.

“I'm not sure. Five years?” He knew she wasn't asking to make him feel guilty. And sure enough, her next question was whether there was some special occasion that he had been granted leave for. While they would both rather just bulldoze their way through any situation to get what they wanted, she'd always been the subtler one. Maybe she was worried he was sick, or that something bad had happened while he was on duty. She would have been right.

“Just missed Japan a little,” he said. He wouldn't talk to her about Lupin. He didn't know if there was anyone in the world who'd understand, and even though it was only a work matter, it felt too personal to share.

“And not me?” she asked.

“Of course I missed you! How could you think otherwise?”

“Oh, I know. I just like to get a rise out of you.” Kazuko's smile was more mischievous than Zenigata remembered. His first thought was that she reminded him of Lupin, but he realized that was just his insecurities bubbling to the surface. It had hurt when Lupin had made light of him, but it was alright if it was his sister.

All through her childhood and even long into being an adult, all Kazuko had done had been taking care of other people. First their grandparents, and then their mother who'd never recovered from the trials of wartime. There was so much that Zenigata was sure she'd given up without a complaint that he couldn't get mad at her for little things.

He snorted dejectedly and turned to look at the scenery. They'd left the town, and the road was slithering through a radish field. There were houses here as well, standing just as close to each other as earlier even though there was more space. People liked huddling together, he guessed.

Unless they were powerful enough to feel safe even without closeness, was his next thought as he caught the first glimpse of the tiled roof of their destination, peeking through the leaves of ancient trees. It was intimidating, and Zenigata felt like he had to make sure his back remained upright even as they began climbing up the hill towards the estate.

When a man had shown up to ask if he had any objections to him marrying his sister, a lot of thoughts had been going through his head. First, surprise that the man who'd introduced himself as Susumu Kida was so young. Then, more surprise as he'd realized he was dealing with someone who came from an old and powerful family. Or rather, the Kidas had been powerful until Susumu's grandfather had lost everything in a string of a unlucky investments and killed himself. All they had now was their name, the old estate and some land around it.

But names were powerful, and Zenigata had found himself struggling for words in front of a man over ten years his junior. But once surprise had passed, suspicion had taken its place. Why would a man like this want his sister? As the only son, Kida should have been courting young women from rich and influential families, not someone in her thirties who had nothing to offer other than herself. Surely his family had long since chosen a better candidate to be his wife.

After he'd been sure that his sister wanted the marriage and hadn't just become infatuated because someone was interested in her, he'd decided not to get difficult. She'd spent her younger years as a caregiver to their ill mother while he built a career in Tokyo. He should let her try her luck at happiness.

It was only after the wedding that he learned that Kida had been kicked out of university for indecent behavior and distributing socialist propaganda. He had been furious for a long time – how could his sister fall for someone like that, and then lie to him? – but now he was glad they hadn't said anything. Everything had turned out fine.

“Is he home?” he asked.

“Yes. He's working on a new piece, so you'll have to go to his workshop if you want to see him.”

Zenigata remembered the first time he'd visited them and been given a tour around the house. He'd been impressed by the size of it, humbled by the knowledge that generations and generations of people had lived there. The massive shrine with a statue of the Buddha, centuries old, had stolen his breath. 

Then he'd been taken to Kida's workshop where he had shown him a painting of a tanuki lying in bed, smoking and drinking.

That was another thing that didn't bother him anymore. He'd seen so much while chasing Lupin that a brother-in-law who was failing to live up to what everyone wanted from him didn't seem like a problem. At least he was making enough money to support his family, and that was the main thing, he supposed.

At last, they arrived at the house. Zenigata looked curiously at the large hole in the stone wall that surrounded the premises. Grass was growing among the rubble, so it couldn't have been recent.

“Someone from town hit it with their car,” Kazuko explained. “Nobody was hurt.”

“Hmm,” Zenigata hummed, scratching his head. The hole was an eyesore, and he wondered why they hadn't had it fixed yet. Anyone could see straight to the main entrance of the house and gawk if they were passing by, and it was a shame to leave such an old structure looking shabby like that.

But as soon as they walked through the gate, he could guess the reason, and he was glad he hadn't asked. The majestic roof of the main building was a mess. One third of it was wrapped in plastic, as if someone had tried to do repairs and had grown bored without finishing the job, so he'd hastily covered it up to stop water from getting into the structures. The garden looked tired with weeds growing in places that weren't regularly visited and last year's leaves from the trees still lying on the ground.

Money had to be tighter than he'd realized. A big house like this needed hired help if you wanted to maintain it properly. He remembered an old man who'd come from the village down the hill to fix things when he'd last visited.

“How's the old Yamada?” he asked, putting his shoes aside after they'd stepped inside.

“He died two months ago. The family said he got pneumonia over the winter.”

“Oh. What a pity.” Maybe that explained the roof. Zenigata hadn't known him very well, but he'd been a riot to talk to and a great relief when the atmosphere in the large Kida estate had gotten a little too suffocating for him. Maybe he'd visit the grave later.

“Mom! Mom! Are you back? Did you bring him?”

“Don't run! She said no running inside!”

“You're running, too!”

“Mom! Makoto is running!”

The rapid thumping of feet on the floor got closer until two children burst into the entrance hall, first a boy of around six and then a girl who was a few years older. The boy froze in his tracks when he saw Zenigata, so his sister crashed right into him, and both fell face down right in front of him. He had a split second to worry about whether they were alright before both were up again and trying to push each other down.

“That hurt! Why did you stop?”

“You said I shouldn't run!”

“That's enough, you two!” Kazuko grabbed both children firmly by the collars of their shirts and pulled them away from each other. “How many times have I told you to behave when there are guests? Your uncle is going to think I'm running a zoo!”

“It's fine, it's fine,” Zenigata insisted, amazed to see what loud, rowdy things Yuuko and Makoto had grown into. Last time he'd seen them, she had sat the entire time on her father's knee and hidden her face from view, and Makoto had been so tiny Zenigata had been worried he'd disappear into his arms as he was holding him.

“Where's Naoki?” Kazuko asked.

Yuuko shrugged. “He wanted to stay with dad.”

“I'll go take a look. You two introduce yourselves to your uncle and apologize for the ruckus!”

For a moment, the three of them listened to Kazuko's footsteps as she walked away and stared at each other. The children were both standing like their spines had been replaced with iron rods, and Zenigata wondered if they were scared of him. He tried to put a disarming smile on his face.

“Hello. I'm your uncle, Zenigata.” Then he thought, maybe they should refer to him by his first name. “But you can call me Uncle Koichi.”

“Hello! I'm Yuuko. Nice to meet you!” She bowed at him and gave her brother a slap to the back when he didn't immediately follow her example. Makoto was staring at Zenigata, eyes round with amazement, and he remembered what Kazuko had told him earlier.

“I'm... I'm Makoto! Nice to meet you!”

“You two have grown,” Zenigata said. He wondered what else he could say and wanted to kick himself for not bringing presents. There hadn't been much more than Lupin on his mind ever since he'd left Paris, and now he felt like he'd just woken up from a daydream.

“Of course! We're older!” Yuuko said.

“Yes... Right.”

“Are you really an inspector?” Makoto asked. “Do you have a gun?”

“Yes. And no! I can't carry it around when I'm on leave.”

Makoto's face fell at that, and Zenigata guessed he'd lost some of his points in the boy's mind. He wasn't all that fond of guns, to be honest, and the lack of the familiar weight of the holster was a relief.

“There are better ways to catch a criminal,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Like using your wits and... legs. They can't get away if you're faster. Then you strike them down with martial arts.”

“But what if the bad guys have guns?”

Yuuko sighed. “Don't ask dumb questions. He's the inspector. He knows better than you.”

“You can't tell me what to do!”

“How about you show me the way to your father? I should go say hello,” Zenigata suggested. The children agreed, and he had to hurry to keep up with them because they got into a fight over who should lead the way. Pretty soon, all three of them were running through the narrow hallways that led from one room to another.

Sorry, Kazuko, Zenigata thought. He was being a bad influence on the children, but he would be lost in the massive house if he couldn't keep up with them.

“You both know that running inside isn't allowed!” he said anyway, just to make a point. All he got in response was laughter, and he guessed that finding him amusing was one thing the two agreed on. Fine, he decided. His father hadn't been one for stiff formalities within family, and it made him glad to feel a spark of that here.

“You two! I told you no running!” came Kazuko's exasperated voice, just as Zenigata was turning a corner. He froze, and Yuuko and Makoto pointed wordlessly at him like he was the one who carried all the blame, and as an adult, maybe he did.

“Don't make me feel like I have four children, Koichi,” Kazuko said. She was carrying the youngest in her arms and handed him over to Yuuko. She took the child dutifully like she was used to handling him and took pride in it.

“Sorry, I got a little excited,” Zenigata said.

“I'm going to start making dinner. Susumu is in his workshop. I told him you're coming.” She gave a stern look at her children. “You go play in the garden, and don't cause any trouble.”

“Excuse me.” Zenigata pushed aside the sliding door to the workshop and stepped inside. The smell of oil paint, turpentine and linseed oil hit him, and he coughed into his sleeve. Everything was very much like he remembered it. There was a tatami floor covered in layers and layers of plastic bags and newspapers to protect it from the paint. The dividers on the other side had been slid apart from each other to let in as much light as possible and to make the smell bearable, and the terrace was covered in boxes, buckets and miscellaneous junk that didn't fit inside.

There was only one canvas in the room this time. It was unfinished, but Zenigata could still tell it'd be an autumn landscape in the mountains, the trees displaying such bright reds and yellows that it was almost uncomfortable to look at.

But the artist was nowhere in sight. Zenigata walked over to the terrace, careful not to knock over the bucket that had multiple paintbrushes soaking in it. He had to avoid multiple splotches of paint on the floor, too, or he'd spread the color all over the house once he left the room.

He found Kida sitting on the terrace, leaning his chin on his hands and staring at the garden. There was a large maple tree growing right next to the house. Zenigata thought it could have used some pruning. The branches were reaching towards the house in the shape of crackling lightning. He'd said so the last time he'd been there, but Kida liked to let the tree do what it wanted.

Zenigata cleared his throat when there was no change in the man upon his arrival.

“Nice painting,” he said.

“You think? I hate it.”

“I'm the audience.” A detective in Spain had used that line once when they'd been talking to an artist who was refusing police protection because, in his own words, if Lupin wanted his shitty paintings, he could go right ahead and take them and spare him the pain of looking at them.

Kida let out an amused snort and turned around to greet him. Zenigata had never learned to be at ease around him, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact reason. Perhaps it was that he was over ten years younger, that he carried himself with the self-confidence of a man who'd been raised to think he was better, or that he'd thrown away all the responsibilities that came with his family name. In Zenigata's world, it was hard to respect a man like that.

“It's nice to have you here. I'm glad you're staying longer,” Kida said.

“I just hope I'm not bothering you. It seems you're very busy.”

“Not at all. I bet Kazuko is happy to have more life around here, too.”

Zenigata recalled that Kida's mother was still alive but had chosen to move in with his younger sister and her family rather than staying at the old estate. He'd never asked Kazuko how she felt about that, but it had to be an active effort to get under somebody's skin. Then again, he supposed that was better than living with a mother-in-law who didn't like you.

“And I welcome any distraction from that thing,” Kida added and gestured towards the painting.

“It's a little different from your usual work, isn't it?” Zenigata couldn't remember seeing any landscape paintings in Kida's workshop before. Usually he painted animals doing obscene things. Zenigata couldn't imagine who in their right mind wanted to hang those in their home.

“It's a commission. Some big suit wants it for his mother, and the guy he hired first had to drop the project, so it got shoved to me through a friend of a friend.”

“If you don't mind me asking, why did you take the job if you didn't want it?”

Kida lied down on his back and pointed a finger upwards. “This place is getting shabby.”

“Oh. I couldn't help but notice the roof, not that I want to pry.”

“Right, it's an eyesore, isn't it? A tree branch fell on it during a storm, and most of the tiles cracked or fell to the ground. Yamada was in the middle of fixing it, but he got sick and died. I haven't had the chance to find anyone to continue where he left off.”

It had to take a lot of money to keep such an old place standing, Zenigata figured. It was probably better if he didn't know exactly how much. His salary was so low he'd never be able to own a place like this.

Less stress, he decided, trying to see the bright side of it. And besides, if he ever settled down, then he wouldn't be able to catch Lupin.

Strange, that. He turned his eyes back to the maple tree that was towering over them and thought it over. It should have saddened him that he might never have a place to call his own, or a family. It wasn't too late. He was still at an age that he could get married and settle down. He was sure they'd take him back into the Tokyo Metropolitan Police. 

But there'd be no Lupin in his life, then. Imagining that made him feel more wretched than the idea of never starting a family. Just how obsessed with work was he? Or maybe it was his pride as a man talking. The way Lupin had humiliated him and walked all over his dignity stung, even now. He couldn't give up before he'd locked him up and seen that smirk fall off his face.

“So, what brings you back to Japan?” Kida asked.

“It's nothing. I just thought, I should see my sister's family every now and then. It's not only my job that I have responsibilities to.”

“Oh? You're here because of a sense of responsibility?”

“That's not what I meant!” But Zenigata knew that without Lupin's stunts in France, he wouldn't have taken any time off. Who knew when he would have bothered to come visit his family? He was lying to them and coming across like he cared when, deep down, he knew that his work came first.

“I should have come sooner. This is the first time I see Naoki, and he's already walking.”

“Time goes past fast, doesn't it?”

Zenigata chose not to reply. In the serene quietness of the back garden, he found that he had to ask himself new questions in addition to the ones that had tormented him since Paris. Had he already sacrificed too much to catch Lupin? He could carry the burden of his mistakes, but it wasn't just his own life that was affected. He had a sister, but did he have any right to say he loved her when he was never there for her?

“It wouldn't feel right if I just sat here doing nothing for two weeks. Do you mind if I help around the house a little bit?” He'd seen the state of the front garden, the gate, the roof, the torn washi paper on the sliding doors. There was a lot he could fix, but he didn't want to intrude.

“Go ahead. We've got some materials that might be useful in one of the guestrooms.” Kida stretched his arms above his head and picked up one of the paintbrushes he had in a bucket. Zenigata took it as his cue to let him get back to his work. He should go and leave his things in his room anyway, then maybe ask Kazuko what she wanted repaired around the house. Money might come up, and he felt more comfortable talking to her about it.

He knew his way around the main parts of the house, so after he made it back to the entrance hall, he had no trouble finding the room that was always prepared for him when he was staying over. It was one of the smaller guestrooms with a tatami floor and a back wall he could slide aside to see a small section of the garden. He could sit there with a bottle of sake at night and think.

The wall made a clank as he pushed it aside to see the garden. He had to use enough force that it made him wonder if it was broken or stuck, but perhaps it just hadn't been moved in a while. Zenigata wondered when there had last been any guests. Kida didn't get along with his relatives.

He could hear the children arguing somewhere out of his sight and decided to go see what they were doing. He left his house slippers and socks on the terrace and walked into the garden with bare feet. Grass under his toes was something from years back, and for a moment he felt like he was living someone else's life.

“What are you making so much noise for?” he asked when he found the three. Naoki was sitting on the ground, playing with rocks that Yuuko came to snatch from his fingers whenever they went too close to his mouth. She and Makoto were yelling about how stupid the other was, and Zenigata tried to remember if he and Kazuko had ever fought like that over nothing.

“Hey, kids, what's the matter?”

“Uncle Koichi!” Makoto ran over to him and clung to his coat. “Yuuko is being unfair!”

“Oh? What's she doing?”

Yuuko puffed her chest. “Mom said we have to watch Naoki, but he wants to go and play with his friends.”

“You can watch him!”

“Mom said us!”

“It's a girl's job!”

“No, it's not!”

“It is, right?” It took Zenigata a moment to realize that the last part in the rapid back and forth arguing between the two had been directed at him. He looked down at Makoto who was still clutching his jacket and glaring up at him with the certainty that he'd side with him.

Then he looked at Yuuko who looked no less determined, but he was sure he could see some wariness behind her anger. She didn't know anything about him, but at her age, she must have already realized that the odds were largely in her brother's favor.

“Well, uh...” he started, but then he figured he couldn't appear undecided. Just what sort of a police officer would they think he was if he couldn't take a stand on a matter as simple as this? “The truth is, kids, that looking after a younger sibling is what sisters _and_ brothers do. And if your mom told you to do it together, what kind of a man are you if you run away and make your sister do it?”

“There! What did I say?” Yuuko grinned triumphantly at Makoto, who responded by making a grotesque face at her.

“Besides, why wouldn't you want to look after him? He's causing no trouble,” Zenigata said and went to pick up the boy. Compared to his siblings, he was easy to deal with. Naoki hadn't let out a sound since he'd arrived and made no fuss as he raised him high. A look of curious wonder came over the child, and he stared down at him like he was trying to take in every detail on Zenigata's face.

“Guess you take after your dad's side of the family,” he muttered. It was an overwhelming feeling to look at his nephew – nephew, what a word! – and know that someone like that existed, that there were people he could be this close to if he just put in the effort. Didn't it make him the greatest fool in the world that he'd already missed so much? Was Lupin really more important than this?

“Uncle Koichi, why are you crying?” Yuuko asked.

“Huh, am I?” Zenigata turned to look at Yuuko and Makoto, who'd forgotten their argument and started kicking ball at each other. Now they were both staring at him. And sure enough, there were tears running down his face. He hurried to put Naoki down and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“It's just, I'm so happy to see you three. Somebody really hurt my feelings, so being here with you is...” He drifted off feeling like an idiot. Just what was he doing, blabbing his pathetic life story to these children who had nothing to do with it?

“Was it a woman?” Yuuko asked and kicked the ball at Makoto who wasn't paying attention and got it to his face. She walked over and looked at Zenigata with a knowing smile that he thought entirely inappropriate on the face of someone so young. He wondered why girls always figured that kind of things out faster than boys.

“No, that's absurd!” he blurted out. Lupin definitely wasn't a woman. Well, he dressed up as one sometimes, but that didn't count.

“Then we can beat him up!” Makoto suggested.

“Give us the name!” Yuuko added.

“Wait, wait, let's forget about this. I can't tell you anything. He's a criminal, so it'd be really dangerous if you got involved.”

“How can a criminal hurt your feelings?” Yuuko asked.

Makoto looked equally confused. “Yeah, why do you care what he says? Beat him up!”

“Well... That's, uh...” Honestly, it was a good question. Zenigata added it on his list of things to figure out as soon as he was alone and could think. He cleared his throat. “A good officer never beats up people because of personal reasons. I have to treat him just like any other criminal, or I wouldn't be doing my job right.”

The earlier adoration was back on Makoto's face, and even Yuuko looked a little impressed. Kids were a tough audience, so he felt pretty accomplished with himself for the rest of the day.

***

That night, Zenigata couldn't sleep. He was exhausted from traveling to the point that he had a headache and it hurt to keep his eyes open, but sleep wouldn't come. His thoughts were going in circles around what his last meeting with Lupin had been like.

He should have arrested him. Then he could have already put the matter behind him and moved on with his life. Except that he wondered if he'd ever do that. If Lupin was in prison, what would that mean for him? Would he be constantly on his toes, trying to guess when and how he'd escape? Even if his death sentence was carried out, would it give him rest? Or would he keep suspecting every shadow, on the off chance that Lupin had faked his death once more?

“Goddammit, leave me alone,” he muttered and ran his fingers through his hair. He rolled to his side to get away from under the duvet of his futon. It was hot, but he wasn't sure if it was the weather or the thoughts tormenting him.

_“How can a criminal hurt your feelings?”_

Yeah, what did he care if Lupin thought it was fun to give him a kick and watch him tumble down a hill? He wasn't the first criminal to laugh at him. Zenigata had no illusions about what kind of an aura he had around him. Even some of his colleagues laughed at him. But nobody else's mocking words had ever drilled into his heart like Lupin's and left him feeling so uncertain of what he should do next.

Was it that he wanted his respect as a rival and had thought he had it? It had made him proud that people saw him as the man who understood Lupin the best. Only he had any hope of capturing him. That had given his life purpose. No, even more than that, it had been the moments when Lupin looked at him like an equal, someone who was worthy of putting the cuffs on him one day. Zenigata had thought their rivalry was destined, that fate had chosen the two of them because nobody else was like them. He had thought Lupin felt the same.

It was the ache of rejection that he was feeling, he realized as he pushed aside the sliding door and went to sit on the terrace. It was quiet outside. There was a lantern to his side that he could light, but he didn't feel up to it. He'd thought Lupin returned his feelings of camaraderie and respect. In hindsight, it had been naïve of him. And unprofessional. His job was to arrest Lupin, nothing else.

Zenigata sighed, the sound eerily loud in the night. How pathetic. He'd wanted to be someone special to Lupin. Surely he should look for friendship elsewhere. Maybe he was lonelier than he'd realized. Lupin was the only constant person in his life. Was it any wonder he'd started entertaining illusions of companionship?

But that would change! He'd had nice dinner with his sister's family. They'd watched TV, and he'd played board games with the children. Such a feeling of belonging somewhere was overwhelming, certainly more than he deserved after not showing his face to them in years. He wouldn't let that go to waste.

He would arrest Lupin. These two weeks, he'd let his family and the air of his homeland fill the cracks that Lupin had left in his heart. He'd go back as a better man, one who no longer let his feelings guide him astray.

It had been a good decision to come to Japan, he thought. After just one day, he could see so much more clearly. All that time abroad had made him lose sight of the reasons he had chosen this career. He needed to step up if he didn't want to dishonor his famous ancestor any further.

He drew his lungs full of the air in the garden, thick with the scent of familiar plants. He could do this. Soon, Lupin would matter only as what he'd put on the line for the culprit's name when he was filling out the paperwork after his arrest.

***

The next morning, Kazuko fussed over him as he was having breakfast. Zenigata wasn't sure why she thought he needed all that food since she kept saying he should take it easy and just relax. Then again, she probably knew he wouldn't sit still for long.

“I was thinking that I could help around a little,” he said.

“Oh, no. You're here to rest.”

“You're letting me stay and feeding me for two weeks. The least I can do is be useful. And I'll grow bored if I have nothing to do. I'll see if I can do anything about the roof.”

Zenigata gulped down his breakfast and went to take a look. As Kida had said, he found a pile of clay tiles and cement mix in one of the unused rooms. It didn't seem too complicated. He wasn't exactly an expert, but he'd taken any job that had been offered to him while growing up, and he was sure that experience would help him along.

He climbed up to the roof to see what he could do, but he forgot all about that when he saw the view. The house was on higher ground that the surrounding countryside, so he could see the roofs of all the houses nestled below in the valley, the fields and trees green with summer, and the roads so narrow that two cars would have trouble passing each other. It was strange to think he'd come here by train.

Behind him, the hill continued higher until it could be called a mountain. There was a shrine there, but he couldn't see even the steps leading up to it from under the trees. He sat on the ridge of the roof and thought back to his last visit there before he remembered that he hadn't climbed up to enjoy the wind and the scenery.

The part that needed work was on the northern end of the house where they only had storage rooms and living quarters for servants that had used to live on the property. He began taking apart the plastic wrapping protecting the damaged section and was relieved to see that Yamada hadn't left him all that much to do. He'd removed the broken tiles and had gotten started on laying the new ones, so Zenigata had a clear path to follow.

He felt his chest puff with hope. This was within his skills. He just had to lay down the new tiles and make sure they fit into each other. Still, he had better be careful. It'd be embarrassing if he did a bad job and ruined something so old and majestic.

The clay tiles were heavy, so he carried only a few at a time to make sure he didn't drop any. By the time he'd piled two dozen up on the roof, he had sweat trickling down his back and felt like he'd keel over if he didn't stop to catch his breath. He turned his face towards the wind and let it cool him down.

He heard someone climb up the ladder he'd laid against the wall. It was Kida, and while he wasn't dressed like he was there to help, Zenigata considered it enough of a miracle that he'd come out of his workshop to see what he was doing. He didn't usually approach him.

“Kazuko said you'd be here.”

“Is something wrong?” Only after he'd said it, Zenigata wondered if Kida didn't trust him to work on the roof after all. Maybe he thought he'd make a mess of it and he'd have to pay someone to do it again after he'd returned to chasing Lupin. 

He forced down the longing the thought arose in him. He was in Japan. It made no sense to feel homesick.

“Oh, no. I just thought I'd come to take a look at the view.”

“It's beautiful. This is one of the things I miss the most when I'm away from Japan.”

“Take a long look, then. This might be the last time in your life that you see this.”

“Huh?” Zenigata wondered if he'd suddenly ended up in the plot of a murder mystery. That sounded like a threat, except he couldn't imagine why Kida would want him dead. Maybe if he was rich and his sister stood to inherit him, but even that was a stretch. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd be able to grab onto something if Kida decided to push him off the roof.

His apprehension must have shown on his face – his feelings always did, without exceptions – because Kida burst out laughing and doubled over. Zenigata had to rush closer to grab him by the arms to stop _him_ from falling. It was only after the rush of concern had passed that he realized that if Kida had wanted to kill him for real, he had just given him the perfect opening by getting so close.

“I guess I shouldn't talk like that to a cop,” Kida said.

“What was that all about?”

“All these fields and the near-by forests belong to my family, but I've gotten a pretty good offer from a company who wants to build apartment buildings here.”

“What?” 

Kida had never seemed like the type of man who got friendly with corporations. He wasn't a man who cared about traditions, either, but surely selling his family's lands was too much even for him.

“Is that really so shocking? You look at me like I just admitted that I came here to kill you after all.”

“But what you said... Surely you aren't selling? What will happen to the people in the village? And this house? Where will you take Kazuko and the kids? And... and this place has been like this for so many generations!”

“There are plans to build factories on the other side of those mountains, and the workers need somewhere to live. Why not here? It'd only be a good thing for Sekiyama.”

“But –”

“I don't want to sell. I have trouble painting elsewhere, and I'm sure my family would eat me alive, but when I look at the facts, isn't it pretty selfish for one man to stand in the way of everyone else's future? Sometimes you should give up what you love because it's the right thing to do.”

“Does Kazuko know about any of this?”

“I don't want to burden her with it. I'll ask her what she thinks when it's time to decide.”

“You should tell her. It's her life, too.”

He got back to work because he wanted to be done before the afternoon. Kida didn't leave but remained sitting on the ridge, staring at the mountains in thought. After a while, he dug a pipe from his pocket, filled it with tobacco and lit it. He took a long puff out of it and turned to address Zenigata again.

“A little arrogant of you to say that to me, isn't it?”

“What? Because she's part of your family now?”

“Has Kazuko talked to you about Paris?” Kida asked.

“No, why?”

“We got a message from the government that you'd been captured by terrorists and that Interpol doesn't negotiate with groups like that. Even if the whole thing only lasted about a day, it was still a day when we were sure we wouldn't see you again.”

Zenigata put down the tile he was holding. He felt like his tongue was nailed to the roof of his mouth. He'd only had room for Lupin on his mind, and it hadn't even occurred to him to call his sister after the ordeal. She'd had to learn of his release through official sources. Just what sort of a miserable brother was he? No wonder Kazuko had cried so much when meeting him at the station.

He wondered if Lupin ever felt this chilling guilt after others had shed tears for him even though he was fine. Zenigata had thought he tricked others on purpose because he enjoyed it, but perhaps he, too, just got caught up in the moment sometimes and didn't understand how much he was hurting the people in his life.

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize...”

Kida shrugged. “We saw everything in the news. I guess since you let them catch you on purpose so you could arrest them –”

“That's not what happened! It was real! I'm only alive because of Lupin!”

“Hm? The man you're trying to capture? How does that make sense?”

“It's... complicated.” And though he was always quick to jump to Lupin's defence whenever someone spoke badly of him, Zenigata found the words locked inside him now. It was a little too complicated.

Kida let out another puff of smoke and said, “It's not my place to tell you what to do, but I hate seeing Kazuko cry. Can you try to keep things from getting so complicated again? Dying for a cause only sounds noble when it happens to someone you don't know.”

Zenigata bowed his head. “I promise I'll be more careful from now on.”

He'd made a much bigger mess than he'd realized, all because he couldn't think about anything but capturing Lupin. Lupin, Lupin, Lupin. He hadn't spent even two days in Japan, and he was already starting to realize how meaningless his life looked from the outside. His euphoria from the night before made him feel ashamed.

***

The following night was another sleepless endeavor. Zenigata lay awake and stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the old house. It had gotten windy in the afternoon, and the rustling of the leaves in the garden carried inside. He was glad he'd finished fixing the roof and taken down the plastic, or it might have gotten blown away by the storm and torn some tiles with it.

He was thinking about Lupin again, but his thoughts were unusually grim. The determination that had flown through his veins the previous night was gone, and he felt tired and old in a way that had nothing to do with the hard work of the day.

A couple of times during the day, he'd considered apologizing to Kazuko about everything he'd put her through. But he hadn't known how to bring it up without it coming off as hollow. He had no plans of retiring. There was no telling when he'd be kidnapped again, or worse. That it was his duty wouldn't make it any easier for her if he never returned home.

Kida had said he didn't want to see her cry. Zenigata hadn't thought twice about it at first, but now he kept repeating the words over and over in his head. Obviously, he loved her. He wouldn't have married someone of so little importance otherwise. But until now, Zenigata hadn't seen a single sign of it.

He turned over to his stomach. To have someone who cared so much about you that seeing you cry was one of the worst things they could imagine had to be reassuring. Zenigata snorted dryly at himself. If there was ever someone like that for him, that person would be in for a wild ride. He cried all the time.

Zenigata buried his face into his pillow when he suddenly thought of the embarrassing fit he'd had in front of Lupin when he'd thought he'd perished in the helicopter crash. Lupin had just stood there, the rotten bastard. No care in the world, no regard for his feelings, even though a few words from him would have been all it took to ease his pain. If their roles had been reversed – 

He was struck by the image of Lupin on the ground, his body shaking with sobs he couldn't control. Zenigata rose to his knees like he'd been slapped. How ridiculous. Lupin would never. There was nothing that could reduce him to that.

And yet, or maybe exactly because of that, picturing it hurt. Lupin wasn't meant to be vulnerable that way. It was so wrong that Zenigata had to run his fingers through his hair to make himself stop thinking about it. It didn't work. He wondered what he'd do if he ever found himself in a situation like that.

He wouldn't just watch. He swallowed, mouth dry, as he realized that if he ever saw Lupin cry – real tears, not faking it melodramatically as part of a plot – his only concern would be to calm him down. Whatever it took, he'd do it. Pull him close, stroke his back, say something comforting, wait until he was ready because sometimes even knowing that everything was fine wasn't enough.

It was what he'd wanted Lupin to do to him back in Paris.

Zenigata took a deep breath, as if attempting to cool himself down. His face was on fire, but he felt like it was worse inside him. He was surprised he didn't burn himself as he pressed a hand on his chest.

“Damn you! Lupin!” he swore and jumped to his feet. Even when he wasn't there, he got no peace. It wasn't enough that he'd given up everything to chase him. Lupin had taken his heart, too. He'd felt this fire before, but until now he hadn't called it by the right word. Duty? Honor? Responsibility? Ha, it was something far more powerful.

Suddenly feeling like he was suffocating, Zenigata ran to the sliding wall and shoved it aside. A cool wind greeted him, but it wasn't enough. He jumped into the garden and ran around the house, then up the ladder that he'd left standing after finishing his work.

The wind was stronger up on the roof, but Zenigata didn't waver as he walked on the ridge until he reached the edge. He stopped there and stared into the darkness. He wanted to yell “I LOVE YOU, LUPIN!” at the top of his lungs to make sure that the thief heard it even if he was on the other side of the world. To be certain he wouldn't, he pressed both hands against his mouth to keep the words trapped.

Slowly, he sank to his knees as the sudden burst of emotions inside him began to die down. He was trembling so much he knew he shouldn't attempt getting back on the ground. He was in love with Lupin. It felt like such a natural thing that he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. Why else would he have left everything behind and kept chasing him even though it was such a thankless job? Lupin was everything to him.

It felt like his body was suddenly so light that the wind might pick him up and send him flying. It was a frightening feeling, like there was no anchor left in his life. Because what good would loving Lupin do to him? To Lupin, he was an amusing distraction, nothing more. He would never return these feelings. Lupin was a shooting star. He brightened people's lives for an instant, but he wouldn't stop or ever come back once he'd passed.

As the impact of the realization lessened, he thought of all the new questions and problems he was suddenly facing. What should he do? Could he go back and continue like nothing had happened? Could he give everything he had to his job if it meant putting the man he loved on death row, or at least locking him up for life?

Lupin's criminal record was miles long. Even if he wasn't rotten to the core like the worst scum out there, there was no doubt that he deserved to be arrested and to face his sentence. Could Zenigata really do that to him, or would he find his resolve cracking if it was up to him to put out Lupin's light?

And even if he had faith in himself, how about everyone else? If anyone ever found out what he felt for Lupin, it'd destroy his career. All of his past failures to arrest him would be considered deliberate. He'd lose his job and honor, maybe end up in prison himself. He'd made enemies over the years, and most of them would use a trump card like that to ruin him.

It wouldn't be just him. So many others would fall with him. Colleagues who'd assisted him might be considered accomplices. Maybe they'd look into cases he'd helped solve while chasing Lupin and decide he might have tampered with the evidence to draw everyone's attention from the master thief. And what of his former chief in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police who'd written him a letter of recommendation and secured him a position in the ICPO?

What of his family? His disgrace would reach them. Zenigata was sure that Kazuko and the others wouldn't doubt his honor as an officer, but his downfall would give Kida's side of the family one more reason to see Kazuko as a mistake who'd brought them nothing but shame. He couldn't do that to her.

That it wasn't acceptable for a man to love another crossed his mind only then. It wasn't something he had a problem with. His work had shown him the ugly side of humanity, and compared to all the dirt he’d seen, love couldn’t be wrong. Traveling the world and witnessing how differently people lived and thought had only strengthened that, but he knew he was in the minority. Society would view him as depraved and dangerous. Maybe even Lupin, considering his obvious love for women.

It was clear he'd have to keep his feelings to himself. He hadn't for a moment imagined otherwise. But maybe it wasn't enough. This whole realization had come forth because of Kida's words, and Zenigata found himself thinking of something else he'd said that day.

_“Sometimes you should give up what you love because it's the right thing to do.”_

Zenigata let out a shaky breath, knowing what his only option was. It was like weight was beginning to return to his body as the reality of his situation became clear. He couldn't be selfish. He had to think of everyone who'd be affected. No more chasing Lupin. He'd have to let someone else do it. Someone else would put handcuffs on him and bring him to justice, and Zenigata would read about it in the newspaper.

The wind kept shrieking in his ears and making his nightclothes flutter around him. It dried his tears that he hadn't even noticed until now, and he wondered if they'd started as ones of happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

The atmosphere in the hotel room was stifling. Lupin felt like his skin was covered in invisible hives that he could never scratch enough. He'd tossed his tie on the floor and unfastened the up-most buttons of his shirt, but he still felt like something was making it hard to breathe.

Jigen had asked him if he was getting sick and had offered to drop by a drug store or make soup. What a worrywart. Lupin had told him he wasn't his mother, which had earned him an irritated snort and a “Fine, I won't come to your funeral” before Jigen had marched out for a drink at the bar downstairs.

Maybe he was sick, but it wasn't anything that rest or any medicine could heal. It was anger and impatience that were making him so restless. Usually, when he got like this, he left the group and wandered off on his own to leave his mark in some corner of the world he'd never visit again. But he knew it wouldn't help this time. Most of the time, he couldn’t give a name to the pressing need to go out and do something. Now, he knew exactly what was causing his uneasiness.

Goddammit, Pops, making me wait, he thought. When he'd first heard that Zenigata had taken two weeks off after the incident in Paris, he'd assumed a lot of things. First, that it was all a scheme to make him careless and easier to capture. Then, when their half-hearted jewelry store robbery had gone perfectly, that Zenigata was being petty and avoiding him on purpose in order to lure him out. 

Hah, like the great Lupin III would care and go crawling to anyone. So, he hadn't. He'd only checked up on Zenigata's movements to keep an eye on him. Work reasons only. The greatest thief in the world had to know where his rival was at all times. He had gotten some gleeful satisfaction from imagining how Zenigata was so mad he'd try something this childish.

But then he'd found out that not only had he gone back to Japan for real, he was also visiting family. Lupin had known that Zenigata had a sister, but she'd never been anything but a name on paper. She'd never been important.

“What does it matter where he's gone? We should make use of it,” Jigen had said when Lupin had told him about how much it annoyed him that Zenigata would just disappear without word. Jigen was always like that, coming to the simplest and most practical conclusion in any situation. He couldn't see beneath the surface. That was partly what made him so reliable, but there were times when Lupin grew tired of it.

Of course it mattered where Zenigata had gone. It was an integral part of the Lupin family legacy that he had a rival who almost but not quite matched him in skill, someone who made him look more dashing just by comparison. It was unacceptable that Zenigata would take a break without telling him. Like he had a life and more important things than chasing him!

For a moment, Lupin had considered following him and ruining his holiday by announcing a grand crime in Tokyo. There was no way Zenigata could have ignored that, so he would have had to cut the time with his family short and come back to work. But that would have made it look like Lupin was the one who was being petty and desperate, and that was not a good look on him.

Besides, he'd been thinking a lot about Zenigata crying as of late. Not so much the violent bawling from when he'd thought he was dead but how he'd cried in his hotel room. Both had been Lupin's fault, but the first was the kind of melodramatic fun that was normal for them. It was entirely different when Zenigata was crying because he was feeling betrayed and hurt.

Especially when it was his fault. That thought had been eating its way inside Lupin's chest ever since his anger over his ruined dinner plans had faded. Now it felt like there was a hollow space between his ribs, and none of his usual pleasures were filling it.

A sound at the door caught his attention, but he didn't turn around. Someone was coming in with a key. Probably Goemon. Jigen wouldn't leave the bar that quickly, and Fujiko had said she'd find some work to keep herself busy. She didn't want to sit around and wait for him to stop being pathetic, as she'd put it.

“I have returned,” Goemon said as he stepped inside.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Regrettably, no.”

Lupin heard Goemon sit down on the couch and cross his legs under him. He'd been out for over an hour because his sweet tooth was aching. Lupin wanted to roll his eyes. Couldn't find what he wanted? Yeah, right. They were still in France. There was a café or a little sweets shop around every other corner.

“Maybe if we –” Goemon started, but Lupin cut him off.

“We're not leaving town. What'd be the point? There's no job right now.”

“A bird that sits on a branch for too long may forget how to fly.”

Lupin snorted and rolled his eyes. “Did you come up with that on your own, or is it from some ancient scroll? You three keep bugging me about this like I'm about to retire. A good heist can't be forced!”

“Fujiko and Jigen think it's a waste that we're staying in this town and doing nothing. We don't have to worry about Zenigata right now, so why don't we –”

“The world is full of jobs for someone with your skills. Go do one if you're that restless.”

Goemon fell silent. Lupin felt a little bad about how snappy he was being with the others, but they were really starting to get under his skin. Since when did they need him this badly? If they didn't like how he was handling this, they were free to go and do something else.

He supposed he should have felt flattered. Normally, he loved being the center of everyone's attention and feeling like their lives revolved around him. But now it just made him cranky. It was like their presence and demands were tying him down. The longer he thought about it, the less sense it made. This was the kind of life he loved - taking anything he wanted, travelling as a free soul, not having a care in the world. It shouldn’t have tasted this bland. Where was his motivation?

“I have my pride. I can't do a job when Pops isn't here. It'd be like admitting I'm afraid of him,” he said, more softly to show Goemon that he wasn't mad at him. “I'm sure you understand.”

“I do, but Fujiko and Jigen are getting restless.”

“Let them. If they don't like how I run things, they can go elsewhere. I don't own them.” He knew they wouldn't leave. Well, Fujiko might if she came up with a good job elsewhere, but Jigen hadn't accepted outside work in years. Lupin was sure he liked having a routine, or something as close to one as people who were always on the move could have.

Goemon didn't say anything, but Lupin could imagine the frown on his face. He probably didn't care either way about whether there was a new job in the horizon or not, but he didn't like the tense atmosphere in the group.

“It's not like I'm not planning anything,” Lupin said.

“Oh? But I thought –”

“It's just that I'm not planning anything for _now._ I broke into the ICPO offices before we left Paris. Pops only requested leave for two weeks. Once he gets back to work, we'll welcome him with a big job.”

“I doubt that'll make them any happier.”

“And why's that?”

“Because it makes it look like you're only doing this because of Zenigata. While I acknowledge your noble spirit for helping him earlier, I can't condone the way you treat our work like a game.” Goemon fell quiet, but Lupin could sense that he had more to say and was just considering if it was worth it. Maybe it was something he worried would anger him.

“No, even more than that, I am troubled that you seem to be treating our work as a game between you and Zenigata. I thought we were partners, but our opinions and needs are irrelevant to you. You only care about him.”

“Hey, now!” Lupin sat up on the couch and turned to glare at Goemon with the most offended pout he could put on his face on such short notice. “That's not fair! He's my rival. No, not that. He fancies himself my rival, but he's just an old loser who should retire!”

Goemon seemed unaffected by the look Lupin was giving him. “If he retired, would the rest of our lives be like this past week has been?”

“Of course not!” Lupin snapped. He wished he had some amazing comment to back him up, but the longer he glared at Goemon, the more he felt like shrinking into himself and hiding under the couch pillows. It was impossible to argue with Goemon. It would have been more productive to try to crack a safe with his head.

Maybe Goemon had a point, but only a little bit. The only reason he was so upset by this was that it was his fault Zenigata had gone on leave. Even though it was annoying that he was so glued to him and always showed up at the wrong time, Lupin didn't wish him ill. He'd thought the fact that he'd saved him from the terrorists and secured him an impressive arrest had been enough proof of that.

He'd even shown up at his hotel to cheer him up. Lupin couldn't deny that the conversation between Zenigata and his chief that he, Jigen, and Goemon had spied on had impressed him a little. Most men in the world wouldn't have been able to get back on their feet so quickly after everything Zenigata had been through in just one day. For such an old guy, he had a lot of energy.

But not a lot of smarts, it seemed. He'd misread all his intentions. No wonder he couldn't arrest him. What a loser. Anyone with half a brain would have seen that he'd only wished him well. Not just that, he'd gone way beyond what was reasonable. Zenigata should have cried tears of gratitude, but instead he'd –

“Ugh!” Lupin groaned and fell on his back. This was getting on his nerves, too. He just wanted Zenigata to come back and for everything to return to normal. Then he could pull the rug from under his feet and laugh at him as he fell on his ass without this guilt nibbling at his insides. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and he loathed every second of it.

“Goemon, do you want to know about our next heist?” he asked.

“Without Jigen and Fujiko being around?”

“Exactly because of that! They got huffy and left, so their loss.” 

Not really. He just wanted a distraction. There was no alcohol in their room, and he didn't feel like going to the bar where he'd have to listen to Jigen's grumbling.

“Right, so...” he started without waiting for Goemon to say yes or no. “I know a rich family living in these parts. Former nobility but still entirely full of it. They're celebrating the head of the family turning seventy next week, and I took the liberty of inviting us four.”

“Do we have a specific target?”

“Whatever gifts the old guy gets. It's bound to be rare and valuable stuff, so it'll be worth you guys’ while.”

“And you?” 

Though Lupin wasn't looking at him, he was sure Goemon did that thing of his where he opened only one eye as he spoke.

“Mine, too.”

Naturally, he'd already sent a message to the ICPO, detailing when and where he was going to strike. He'd taunted Zenigata on the note, challenging him to catch him and to prove that he hadn't gone soft on his vacation. It'd drive him mad. Lupin could imagine him crunching the note in his fist and yelling at nobody in particular that he'd arrest him. It made him want to kick up his feet and laugh. Only he could get Zenigata so riled up, nobody else.

This'd be a fun heist. He could go to the party in disguise. He'd talk to Zenigata and dig some details of his vacation out of him. Surely he'd been restless. Surely he'd thought of him and obsessed over how to capture him after his return. The two weeks must have been slow torture for him. He'd say he was more determined than ever to make Lupin III face justice.

And maybe... Lupin scrunched his eyes shut to clear his head. He'd thought a lot about what Zenigata had said to him while he'd been in disguise as Napoleon. Voice trembling with sorrow, he'd called him a great man. There wasn't much in the world that could still a restless soul like Lupin, but at that moment he'd feared his heart had stopped.

Of course he was a great man. He was the best. But to hear it from Zenigata's lips was new. Normally, the inspector had nothing but insults and promises of prison for him. He called him his rival because he was a great thief. Great thieves weren't necessarily great men – in fact, most of them probably weren't – so it was a surprise to hear how highly he thought of him.

And, as Lupin had realized after he'd returned to his hideout after the failed hotel dinner, he wanted to hear more. If that was how Zenigata spoke of him to others, he wanted all the details. Even more than that, he had to make sure Zenigata's opinion was still the same. Did he still see him as a great man, even after he felt so betrayed by his actions in Paris?

It was this question, perhaps, that had troubled Lupin the most during Zenigata's absence. He had to know. Before, he hadn't thought twice about Zenigata's opinion of him, just like a man didn't care about the ants that hurried across the sidewalk as he walked down the street. But now he was possessed by worry that he might have failed as a great man, that he was nothing more than a lowlife in his eyes.

If so, he had to make things right. And this new heist was the first step in making sure that everything returned to normal, like the catastrophe in Paris had never even taken place.

***

Getting to the party had been so easy Lupin was almost embarrassed for the hosts. He wanted to be able to walk around freely, so he'd borrowed the identity of one of the gentlemen on the guest list while the real one was having a nap in the bushes outside the estate. Some other day, he would have liked to be a dashing young heir, but tonight he wanted to be someone Zenigata would find easy to approach.

He'd slipped Jigen among the security since he knew how to stand around and look intimidating, even if he didn't have the frame for it. Goemon was serving drinks, and Fujiko had agreed to be the tech guy who monitored things in their van. Jigen and Goemon had bugged the place earlier in the morning, so they could listen in on a few rooms and talk to her on the radio.

The ICPO was there, too. Lupin had seen their cars behind the mansion and a few stiff men who couldn't hide they were cops no matter how hard they tried. But no Zenigata yet. It was annoying. Usually, he was the first on the scene, bellowing orders and harassing the target of Lupin's heists for more protection, more men, more liberties to do as he pleased because only he could protect their treasure.

He snorted into the wine glass he'd taken from Goemon's tray as he'd passed. Maybe Zenigata thought he was being clever. Maybe he was in disguise, too, trying to spot him before he made his move. Lupin let his eyes wander among the guests and tried to guess who the inspector might be. The old man leaning on his cane? The young red-headed man who looked like he didn't know anyone else and was standing awkwardly to the side? The woman sharing a funny story in such a loud voice that half the room could hear her? He had to admit, Zenigata wasn't half bad at disguises and had managed to trick him a couple of times. He could be anyone.

Oh, well. He'd show his face when all the birthday presents went missing. Until then, Lupin would entertain himself by mingling with the guests and trying to find Zenigata.

He was feeling generous, so he walked over to the young man who was now trying to act like he was interested in examining one of the paintings on the wall. It was obvious he was only hoping to look like he felt comfortable with himself at the party. Maybe a young cousin who hadn't made anything of himself and didn't like mingling with his family. Depending on whether he liked him, Lupin could choose to brighten up his evening, or make an even bigger fool of him for his own amusement.

“Well, hello there, my boy!” he said, long before he'd reached his side, so that all the people around them noticed him approaching.

“What? Me?”

“Who else? I've said hello to most people here, but you've somehow escaped my radar.” Lupin had done a standard background check on the guy he was impersonating, but since he had no idea who this young man was, he had to be careful. The man's surprise at being addressed suggested they weren't close.

“Oh, well... Nice to meet you. I’m Jan Landheer.”

Heh, Dutch. The name and the accented French were like a painted bull's eye on his forehead. Even as he shook the man's hand with a welcoming smile, Lupin wondered what he was doing at the party. As far as he knew, the family had no connections to the Netherlands, certainly not the kind that'd earn him an invitation to such a big private event.

Had to be on duty, then. And since Lupin hadn't seen his name on the staff list, that could only mean he was with the ICPO. Zenigata's new sidekick, maybe. They sometimes saddled him with rookies or local hotshots to watch over him – and to steal part of the glory if he arrested the famous Lupin III, no doubt. One look at Landheer's nervous, boyish smile made him certain he was firmly in the first category.

“Oh, I see now! You're here to make sure everything goes smoothly, then? To catch that scandalous thief?”

“You know about that? We told Mr. Allard not to make it public that he got a calling card from Lupin.”

Lupin chuckled heartily. “Well, Philippe and me, we're like brothers. He tells me everything. But I haven't seen Inspector Zenigata anywhere tonight. I was looking forward to meeting him. Such a hard-working and inspiring man, I must say.”

“He is, isn't he?” Landheer's face lit up, and at once all the awkwardness melted away from his lanky frame. “He's my inspiration! To be honest, this case makes me a little nervous. I hope I won't bungle it up.”

Lupin fought not to let his amusement show. Good old Pops had a fan. He imagined how smitten Zenigata had to be with that. It was rare for him to get respect, and adoration like this was even more exceptional. He'd probably blushed and squirmed like a fair maiden when he'd first met this guy. He no doubt loved the attention.

Suddenly, this wasn't so funny anymore. Just what right did some Dutch rookie who probably couldn't even tie his own shoelaces have to walk onto the scene and act like he belonged there? What right did he have to call Zenigata his inspiration? He was a nobody. There was a brief desire to make him trip over his own feet and make a mess of the case. After that, he'd be dismissed for sure.

Much easier would be to plan his next heist on the other side of the world. Landheer was unlikely to be a permanent partner for Zenigata. All he had to do was go away, and Zenigata would follow and leave this clown behind without hesitation. Catching him was all that mattered to him.

I'm all that matters, Lupin thought, feeling confidence replace his irritation.

“Don't worry. Everybody makes mistakes when they're new on the job. I'm sure the inspector will be understanding,” he said.

Landheer puffed his chest and hit it once with his fist. “Actually, I'm happy to announce that I'm the one in charge. Well, not happy since I'm sure this'd go better if –”

Lupin didn't hear the rest of his blabbing. Zenigata not in charge? What lunacy was this? Sure, he got replaced sometimes, but only after some big blunder, and only when the ICPO found someone who seemed more competent. After he'd arrested the terrorists in Paris two weeks ago, there was no reason he should be in the chief's bad graces.

“Where is he?” he asked, and the outrage in his voice cut off Landheer in mid-sentence. A confused look took over his face.

“Zenigata? I'm not sure. He's no longer on the Lupin case.”

“He was fired? Why?” Lupin thought over what he knew of the past two weeks, but he couldn't come up with anything that made sense. Zenigata's superiors hadn't been mad that he'd taken leave. In fact, they'd been relieved since it was his first time, and some of them had worried he was pushing himself too far.

Landheer crossed his arms in front of him to form a hasty X. “No, no, no, not fired! Never! He requested to be assigned to a different case.”

He might just as well have said that the moon had disappeared off the sky. The floor wavered, or maybe his stomach just got turned upside down. Lupin, even with his quick wits, needed a moment to digest what those words meant in that particular order. His first reaction was utter disbelief. Zenigata would never leave his case voluntarily. He thought of them as fated rivals. Arresting him was his life's purpose.

Then, for a split second, he forgot all the carefully planned details of their heist and wondered what he was supposed to do next. It was almost time to make a move, but it felt pointless. He realized he'd been looking forward to taunting Zenigata more than any of the expensive presents. Not because he wanted to hurt him even more but because it was the best way he knew to tell him that everything could go back to normal. They didn't have to cry and yell at each other. They could forget Paris had ever happened.

That thought had been both a source of relief and strange melancholy for the past weeks that he'd spent doing nothing.

“Sorry, but... Is something the matter?”

Lupin realized he must have been staring into nothing. Landheer was looking at him with concern in his gray eyes – he had barely any eyelashes, he noted – and he remembered that he was supposed to be playing a role.

“Of course not, of course not!” He waved his hand merrily to appear like he'd just been lost in thought. “Only, I'm surprised to hear Zenigata is off the case. I thought nothing was more important to him than catching Lupin.”

As he said those words, logic began to drive away the worries that had momentarily taken over. This was a ruse. Maybe the two weeks Zenigata had taken off were all part of it. He was trying to make him careless by having it look like this incompetent rookie was in charge, and then he'd strike from behind the scenes. Pretty clever, Lupin had to admit. For a few seconds, he'd fallen for it.

“I can't speculate what changed his mind. But I swear I'll continue where he left off. Lupin will be caught tonight!”

“I'm sure. Well, I'll leave you to your duties, officer.”

“Inspector.”

“What?”

Landheer brought his hand up in salute. “Catching Lupin is such a high-profile case that only an inspector can lead it. That's why I got promoted!”

The poor man sounded so proud of himself even though he'd just admitted his promotion had nothing to do with his own accomplishments that Lupin couldn't help but snicker. He returned the salute and wandered off, taking note of Goemon's position among the guests.

There'd be a speech by the grandson of the guest of honor in about ten minutes. That was when they'd strike. All the guests would be in the main hall, and their entrance would have everyone's attention.

Lupin took out his pocket watch and pretended to be checking the time, but he was actually pushing a hidden button on it the agreed number of times to let Fujiko know everything was fine on his end. It had a simple radio transmitter inside, but it was the design of the watch that he was proud of. He'd spent weeks on the intricate details on the metalwork.

She'd tell Jigen where he was needed. Lupin was willing to give him five minutes to get there, as they'd agreed. He glanced at his watch and put it back in his pocket. He wished he had more time to look for Zenigata among the guests, but two could play this game. If Zenigata wanted to act like he'd moved on to another case, Lupin would ignore him in kind.

The music and the buzz of conversation began dying when Allard's grandson made his way to the large interior balcony that oversaw the ballroom. Lupin followed him, as he was pretending to be one of the most important family friends. He'd chosen to act as someone who was expected to speak so he could make it up there and make his grand announcement.

Allard's grandson was the kind who always got nervous when they were the center of attention. Lupin noticed him clutching at the railing with both hands to steady himself as they reached the top. He put a fatherly hand on the man's shoulder.

Less than a minute.

“Why don't you let me speak first?” he asked.

“Oh, but –”

“It's alright. You look so pale you might fall, and wouldn't that be a sorry way to celebrate Philippe's birthday! Let me warm up the crowd.”

Lupin pushed the young man aside and took his place. For a few seconds, he scanned the guests below him. Landheer was at the back by the entrance where he could watch the others and block the most obvious escape route. Cute. As if Lupin III would flee through the door. If he didn't understand even that much, he was clearly not the man for the job, and that meant the real man for it had to be around, too.

He cleared his throat and raised his hand to silence the last few people talking.

“I would like to thank everyone for gathering here today to celebrate the birthday of a man who has had such an impact on the lives of all of us. I consider Philippe Allard one of my greatest friends, and our time together has shaped my life more than anything else.”

He paused for a second to watch Goemon move closer to the windows and set down his tray. They'd hidden his sword under the drinks table before the party had started.

“Or,” Lupin went on, “That's what I'd probably say if I was Alain Tison. But instead... I am Lupin III!” He dug his fingers under the mask on his face and pulled it off with a snap, getting surprised gasps and shouts from the guests. At that exact moment, Goemon cut the lines running behind the curtain, killing the alarm and all phones in the mansion. Nobody even noticed him in the confusion that Lupin had created.

“W-what's the meaning of this?” the young man by his side asked, but Lupin hushed him into silence.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, let me be the first to congratulate our birthday boy! Not everybody gets to kick off a new year in their lives like this and have such a famous guest show up! Your party is going to be in all the headlines tomorrow, Mr. Allard! In return, I'm just going to take a few things with me.”

“It's that thief!”

“Somebody call the police!”

“Where's the security?”

The chaos below him was thrilling, and for a few seconds Lupin indulged in the knowledge that only a few words from him had been enough to cause it. But he couldn't stay and watch. Any moment now –

“Lupin! I'm going to catch you!”

He froze. The words were right. That was what he'd been itching to hear for the past two weeks. But the voice was all wrong. He looked down and saw Landheer pushing his way through the guests and towards the stairs that'd take him up.

Lupin heard an approaching sound from behind him. Jigen's job had been to take care of security and join him up here by entering through a side door for servants. There was a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room, shaped like a crystalline cage with an open bottom. Lupin hadn't told anyone, but he'd planned to have Jigen shoot it down just as Zenigata was below it in order to trap him inside it. The pictures in the papers would have been amazing.

But Zenigata wasn't there. All of a sudden, Lupin was sure of that. This was no trick. If he had been present, he could have never resisted showing himself now, when he was right there.

Jigen's hand came to shake his shoulder. “Hey! What now?”

He hadn't told the others the rest of the plan. He often didn't because he could trust that they'd follow him even when they didn't know their footing in advance.

“Nothing.”

“Huh?”

Lupin turned around and began to walk away towards the door Jigen had used earlier. “We're done. There's nothing for us here.”

“What the hell? What about the loot?” Jigen sounded bewildered, but Lupin knew it'd turn into anger later. It wasn't like him to walk away from a heist that was going well, and he'd promised the others it'd be a productive night. It would have been the decent thing to see this to the end when they'd all stayed with him through the agonizing wait for Zenigata to come back, but he’d completely lost interest.

“Go get Goemon. We're leaving.”

“But –”

Landheer had made it to the stairs and was running them up. He yelled at him to stop, but Lupin only shot him one long, disgusted glance and walked away. Jigen and Goemon could deal with him. If he acknowledged him any further, it'd be a sign that he saw him as someone worthy of handling his case.

He growled under his breath as he shed his disguise, even as he kept marching down the servants' hallway, strides long and angry. He didn’t know what kind of a game was being played here, but he’d find out and win it.

They had a flashy decoy car with planted evidence and fake clues right by the gates of the estate. It was rigged to explode with a shower of confetti a minute after anyone opened one of the doors. Lupin could hear the commotion as he walked down the dark road, but it felt distant. Sand and pebbles made scrunchy sounds under his shoes.

He wrenched open the passenger door of the van and climbed inside. Fujiko lifted her head at the back, sitting surrounded by a pile of radios, cables and other gadgets, and looked at him questioningly.

“What went wrong?”

“Everything.”

“Did you get anything?” And then, when he didn’t reply, she asked, “Are Goemon and Jigen okay?”

“They’ll be here soon.”

Fujiko let out a frustrated sigh and brushed back long strands of hair that had escaped the bun she’d tied on top of her head. Any other day, Lupin might have told her how nice she looked even when she didn’t doll herself up for work, but now it wasn’t much more than a fleeting thought that immediately got devoured by annoyance when she asked her next question.

“What happened? Was the security too tight?”

Lupin dug into his breast pocket for cigarettes and a lighter. He knew he was just making Fujiko mad by ignoring her, but he needed to get this irritating itch out of his system. A good smoke should do it. This wasn’t such a big deal.

Then you shouldn’t have walked away from a heist that was going exactly according to plan, he thought. In hindsight, he’d come off as pretty pathetic.

The driver’s door was pulled open, and he found himself staring at Jigen’s furious face.

“What the hell was that? Why did we stop?”

Lupin offered him half a smile and the half-finished cigarette as he climbed on the driver’s seat. Jigen didn’t smile back, but he took the cigarette and slammed the door shut. A moment later, Goemon entered through the back. He didn’t say anything as he crossed his legs and sat down, but Lupin thought he could feel his irritation radiate from him.

“I’ll tell you on the way. We should get out of here.”

Jigen shot him a glare from under his hat, moved the cigarette with his lips until it was dangling from the corner of his mouth, and reached to start the car.

“Fine,” he grunted, “but the explanation had better be damn good.”

“Yeah, I turned down a really good offer so I could do this job. You’re going to have to make it up to me,” Fujiko said.

“Don’t worry, Fuji-cakes, I will,” Lupin promised and petted her hand. She pulled it away with an snort that told him that she’d make sure he didn’t forget about his words. As if. He was good at making empty promises to women, but he always kept the ones he made to her.

“We had to pull out of there, and fast. The whole thing was some kind of an ICPO trap,” he said. Technically, he wasn’t lying. There was something fishy going on. Zenigata would never just drop his case. As much as it was an annoyance that he always showed up to cause problems, it was one of the rare certainties in his always changing life.

“I didn’t notice anything,” Goemon said from the back.

“Me neither,” Jigen said.

“Pops wasn’t there. Someone else was in charge.”

“Do you think he was just in disguise? He could have been waiting for us to lower our guard,” Fujiko said.

Lupin put his hands behind his head and slouched down on the seat. “No. He really wasn’t there.” Zenigata had been on leave for two weeks. There was no way he would have been able to resist the urge to call out his name and make a mad dash at him when Lupin had shown his face. He didn’t have that much self-control. 

He didn’t miss how Jigen and Fujiko exchanged glances. Oops. If those two saw themselves as standing on the same side in a conflict, he’d have to be careful.

Jigen took the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it into a coffee cup someone had left by the gear stick. 

“Yeah? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“If Pops had been there, we could have pulled off the heist, no problem. But some new guy? We should be careful.”

“Since when are you such a coward?” Fujiko asked.

Of course that wasn’t the real reason. But he couldn’t just tell the others that he’d lost all interest in the heist once he’d realized that Zenigata wasn’t there to see him pull it off. They’d get mad or think he’d gone soft.

“He didn’t seem tough. Didn’t even put up a fight when I knocked him over the head with the butt of my gun,” Jigen said.

“That’s not the point. Don’t you think it’s suspicious that Pops sat that one out? That they sent some rookie like that to take his place? I’m sure there’s something going on, and until we know more, we should take it easy.”

In fact, now that he’d had time to get over his disappointment, it dawned on him that he’d been looking at this entirely wrong. Of course Zenigata hadn’t dropped his case. He’d been forced to quit. Maybe he’d blabbed to the chief about Lupin’s involvement in Paris because he’d felt guilty, or because he’d wanted to get back at him for the incident in the hotel room.

Something so childish didn’t sound right, however, and Lupin quickly dismissed the idea. Surely there was a conspiracy. Maybe even the supposed leave and visiting family in Japan were part of it. Maybe Zenigata was in danger.

With some guilt, he realized he preferred that to the possibility that Zenigata had given up on catching him. If it was the latter, the only cause for it could be what had happened in Paris. And in that case, it was clear his meddling had destroyed something he’d only recently realized he had and wanted - Zenigata’s respect.

“I’ll start looking into this first thing tomorrow. Will you wait until I have something concrete?” he asked.

He got the answer he was expecting. Jigen muttered profanities under his breath, but his tone made it clear he’d stick around. Fujiko sighed and said she’d already emptied her calendar in preparation for this heist, so why not? Goemon remained silent, which was as good as a yes.

Lupin faked a yawn so he could cover his mouth and the relieved smile that was forming.


	4. Chapter 4

Tock... Tock... Tock...

Typing wasn’t one of Zenigata’s strong skills. He was so slow it frustrated even him, and the loud clack as he hit the keys got under his nerves. There was no other sound in the tiny room, except for his occasional grumbling when he made a mistake and had to apply correction fluid on the documents, then wait for it to dry before he could keep going.

Those were the moments he hated the most. When he was typing, he had something to focus on, even if it was nothing more exciting than making copies of old interview transcriptions. When he had to wait, his mind was free to wander.

Lupin. Lupin, Lupin, Lupin. His voice, his smile, his confidence and smugness and the honor and backbone that were there if you dug through the slime on the surface. Lupin had been on his mind constantly for the past few years, but never before had he spent so much time thinking about his good qualities, all those moments when he helped someone in need, let the rightful owner keep the treasure, or helped the police capture someone far worse than him.

No, not the police. Him. Lupin always made sure the culprit landed in Zenigata’s clutches. It was tempting to think that it meant something, but the realistic part of him knew that it was just Lupin taking out the trash. It just happened that Zenigata was the most convenient person take care of it for him.

The way he’d treated him last time still stung. Lupin hating him would have been better than him treating him like a joke. It would have hurt less.

Zenigata made a face at himself. It didn’t matter either way. He’d forget about Lupin. It was the only right choice. It’d be better for his family, for his colleagues and friends, and - ultimately - it’d be better for him. He couldn’t live his life pining for something outside his reach. He needed a new beginning.

Never too late to start all over again, he’d thought after making his decision in Japan. He had spent two wonderful weeks with Kazuko and her family. The stress, tension and hurt had untangled from around him so that it became easier to think of the path ahead of him. He’d need a firm footing, especially in the start, but breathing in the air of his homeland and recalling the accomplishments of his famous ancestor had given him determination.

No more Lupin. When he wasn’t careful and let his thoughts linger on all the implications, it made his eyes burn and heart feel like it was being squeezed and squeezed but wouldn’t pop. It shouldn’t have mattered so much. His feelings would never be returned anyway, and it was better so. If he ever had even a little bit of hope, he didn’t know what he’d do. It’d make his entire life crumble into dust around him. An inspector could not be with a man on the other side of the law. It was a doomed romance.

Explaining things to his superiors had been hard. They’d expected him back with twice as much determination and confidence as before. There’d even been a little welcome party for him, which had made it even more difficult to break the news that he wanted to drop the case. 

He’d lied through his teeth and said he’d realized he was never going to catch Lupin. Someone younger, someone who was on the same wavelength as him and understood all the modern methods, should do it. Time had passed him by. He’d be more useful working on simpler cases.

His chief in Paris had tried to object, but there had been others who’d been all too eager to accept his self-appointed demotion. No matter how he worded it, it sounded like he was giving up. There were many higher-ups who didn’t like him, either because they thought he was incompetent, or because he so often just happened to solve difficult cases under other people’s noses when Lupin waltzed into that part of the world.

He was sure it was out of spite that they hadn’t promised him a new case. Someone wanted to see him humiliated, or to remind him that he wasn’t such a celebrity that he could just demand one. His face had been all over the papers and TV when he’d been chasing Lupin, but without him, he was nothing.

In more ways than one, he’d thought as he’d handed over the files with his most detailed information on Lupin. Someone else needed them more. He hadn’t kept anything, not even one of the signed photos that Lupin sent him from time to time to mock him. Those he’d burned, feeling guilty that he’d ever kept them.

The correction fluid dry, he had no choice but to continue his work. He’d been cooped up inside this tiny office for only a few days, but he was already getting claustrophobic. A man was never happy, he supposed. When he’d been chasing Lupin all over the world, he’d lamented how he no longer had a place to settle down, how exhausting travel was, how he wanted to eat and sleep better.

Now he missed it. Or maybe he just missed Lupin.

Tock.

He glanced down at his work just as his finger pressed down on the typewriter key. He swore out loud. He’d made the same typo again. Where the hell was his mind? Oh, right, he was tragically in love with a man he couldn’t have.

Rather than applying the fluid a second time, Zenigata tore out the entire page, crushed it into a ball and tossed it over his shoulders where it hit the wall, bounced back, and dabbed him on the head before falling to the floor. He turned around to lean his elbow on the back of his chair and glared at the paper ball. 

A morning’s work wasted. He sighed through his nose and decided to take his lunch break early. Maybe he’d do better after some fresh air and something other than coffee and miserable thoughts inside him.

He’d returned to Paris after his two weeks off, but he was hoping he’d be assigned to Japan. If not, perhaps he could quit and get his old job back. Before Lupin’s return after his five-year break, he’d been working as the sole police officer in a little village in the middle of nowhere. He could do that again. If he got lucky, maybe it’d be close to Sekiyama so that he could see Kazuko and the others every now and then.

It was a cloudy morning with the scent of the previous night’s rain in the air. Zenigata was about to hop over a large puddle, but it was right then that he noticed the day’s newspaper displayed at a stand by the pavement. He ended up standing up to his ankles in water, but he didn’t even notice.

_LUPIN INTERRUPTS MILLIONAIRE’S PARTY_

The photo on the front page had been taken at a distance, but there was no mistaking the man standing on top of a flight of stairs. Lupin had struck immediately after Zenigata had returned to work. Fate or a deliberate gesture to welcome him back, Zenigata didn’t know, but he snatched the paper into his shaking hands and began to read the excerpt. 

He was no good at foreign languages, which everyone who’d heard his attempts at English could testify to, but he was pretty proud of his French. He’d never try speaking it, but he could read a little, certainly enough to get the main points of the article.

He could also get what the man at the newspaper stand was telling him, even though he spoke in grunts that didn’t sound like any real language in Zenigata’s ears. He dug outs his wallet and gave the man a couple of francs, not bothering to stick around and wait for his change. Wet socks squelching in his shoes, he hurried through the park gates on the other side of the street and sat down on a bench.

His heart was loud as thunder in his ears as he opened the correct page and stared at another photo of Lupin. It was an older one, a mugshot taken on a rare occasion when he hadn’t broken out of prison immediately.

How dare you look that smug even under arrest, Zenigata thought and covered Lupin’s face with his thumb. Slowly, he read the article and underlined every word he didn’t understand with a pencil so that he could check them in a dictionary later. The main points were clear to him, he just wanted to make sure he got _everything._

Lupin and his gang had shown up at the birthday party of some old millionaire, but they’d left empty-handed. It was thanks to the efforts of the newly promoted Inspector Landheer, said the newspaper, who was showing much promise despite not having a lot of experience. There wasn’t a word about Zenigata in the article, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

If the paper said that he was off the case right after praising Landheer, everyone would think it was due to incompetence. Maybe they were helping him save face. Or maybe they just thought he wasn’t important anymore.

He moved his thumb and looked at Lupin’s black and white face. It was unthinkable that there was an article about him that didn’t mention his archrival. They’d already replaced him, and even though it was exactly what Zenigata had asked for, it made him feel completely alone in the buzz of Paris. What was he supposed to do with his life from now on?

Appetite lost, he decided to return to work. He was stationed in a tiny office at the headquarters, with nobody for company. It was another way somebody was trying to get under his skin and remind him of his place. He doubted it was the chief as he’d been sympathetic to him before and after his time off, but maybe there was someone even higher up who didn’t like him.

He grabbed some coffee on his way through the lobby. He received angry glares as he went by, and he was already back inside his office when he realized it was because he was leaving muddy footprints everywhere. Maybe he should go back and wipe them? But he was already feeling embarrassed and unappreciated, so he decided to hide in his office for the rest of the day.

One sip of his coffee made him realize how cold he was, and he hurried to take off his shoes and socks and put them aside to dry. He had no extras, so he folded his legs under him and sat down on the floor with his coffee, the newspaper and his worn-out French to Japanese dictionary.

He was half-way through the article when there was a knock on the door. Zenigata jumped to his feet and knocked over his mug, but thankfully there wasn’t much coffee left. Sadly, it was enough to stain the newspaper and ruin Lupin’s photo.

“Come in!” he yelled and tried to wipe the coffee with the pages of the paper that he didn’t need.

“What’s going on here?”

Zenigata lifted his head and jolted back on his feet to salute the man who was standing at the door.

“Chief! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Is that some excuse to have your office look like you’re in the middle of a camping trip? Just what are you doing?” Then, the chief’s eyes fell on the few pages of the newspaper that Zenigata had put aside. A smile appeared on his face. “Ah. You’re reading about Lupin?”

“I’m just curious. I saw the headline when I was out and -”

“No, no, don’t be so modest, Inspector!” The chief was suddenly by his side, his hands on his shoulders. “I’m still of the opinion that chasing Lupin is your job, nobody else’s. It’d make me happy if you got back on the case.”

“Really?” Zenigata’s mood improved greatly, and he no longer felt cold. But then he remembered that this time, it had been his idea to get off the case. And that was his final decision. He was doing the right thing.

“I mean,” he went on, “I’m flattered that you say so, but I’ve made up my mind.”

“But why the sudden change? You were full of determination last time I talked to you. Did something happen in Japan?”

He didn’t want to say that he was thinking of his family and the shock they’d been through when they’d thought the terrorists would kill him. This wasn’t a normal job where he could make selfish decisions like that. Everyone had a family.

“I just realized that it’s not right of me to keep the case to myself. I’ve had my chance to capture Lupin. Nothing has ever become of it. Maybe someone younger and more intelligent can do it,” he said.

“That’s not like you at all,” the chief said.

I know, Zenigata thought. If he said that he was in love with Lupin but didn’t want anyone to know and get the chance to accuse him of misusing his position, they’d be less shocked.

“At the very least, won’t you consider teaming up with Landheer for a while? He’s young and wrote an incredible thesis, but he’s got next to no field experience. Isn’t it a waste if you won’t pass your knowledge on to him?”

No. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn’t go out there and train his own replacement, all the while listening to Lupin’s snide comments about how he was growing old. He wanted to think that Lupin would miss him, even just a little.

“I think it’s better if he keeps a fresh perspective,” he said and picked up the soggy newspaper to throw it in the trash can where it could sit with his typo-riddled documents.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind. Any time you do, let me know and I’ll put in a word for you,” the chief said.

“Sorry if I’m being tactless, but you’re pretty determined to keep me on the case, sir,” Zenigata said.

“That’s just because I like you! I liked you the moment I first saw you!” the chief said.

Zenigata could clearly remember the unimpressed look on his face when he’d arrived from Japan and introduced himself, and the countless lectures he’d gotten when he’d let Lupin slip through his fingers. He’d often thought that the one good thing about chasing an international thief was that he didn’t have to meet his boss face to face every day.

“Erm, well, thank you,” he said.

“In fact, let me invite you out to dinner tonight.”

“What? Me?”

“Certainly! I wanted to invite you when you arrested the terrorists, but you asked for leave so suddenly that I didn’t have the chance. Let’s fix that. I’ll have a cab pick you up at the hotel where you’re staying.”

Zenigata couldn’t find it in him to say no to his chief, especially since he almost never got invited out to eat. If he was lucky, maybe he’d get steak. But as soon as he’d finished this thought, he remembered the dinner Lupin had brought to his room two weeks ago, and he wanted to sink through the floor.

He’d order fish.

The rest of the day passed without further incidents. He bought another copy of the newspaper on his way to the hotel where he was staying. The ICPO was covering the expenses for now, but if he got stationed somewhere long-term, he’d have to start renting an apartment and paying for it himself. It was strange to think he’d be staying in one place and building routines. He might make friends with his neighbors, learn to know his mailman, and become a regular at stores and cafés.

One hour before the cab was supposed to arrive, he realized that since they were going to a nice restaurant, he should dress better. He only had the two suits he wore all the time and hadn’t had them dry cleaned in a long time. Having an actual wardrobe was another part of everyday life he could get back into now that he didn’t have to chase one man around the world.

The chief was inside the cab when it arrived. They didn’t speak to each other for a long time, and Zenigata was feeling more and more out of place every passing moment. Damn, he should have gone out and rented a good suit. He wondered what kind of small talk he should start. Sadly, it was hard to think of anything except Lupin and Japan, and he didn’t think the chief would care about either right now.

“Um, where are we going?” he asked once he noticed that the cab wasn’t taking the route he’d expected. He didn’t know Paris that well, but he was sure this wasn’t the way to the restaurant that the chief had mentioned. He’d passed it many times on foot and stared longingly at the menu. 

“You have a sharp eye, Inspector,” the chief said. “I have something important to discuss with you. The restaurant invitation was only to throw off any spies and pursuers. The driver is one of our men. How clever of you to see through my tricks right away.”

This was when Zenigata noticed a sound-proof glass between them and the driver. He gave it a curious knock with his knuckles.

“Oh, uh, thank you, sir.” Zenigata kissed goodbye to a good dinner inside his head, but then it was time to focus on what the chief had said. “What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I still think it’d be the best for you to return to the Lupin case, but in the meantime, I have something else for you. It’s top secret and highly sensitive, but after how you handled the terrorism case, I’m sure you’re up for the job.”

“Of course! Whatever it is, I swear I’ll work hard and not fail!” Never mind that he’d always said that about Lupin, and never mind that arresting the terrorists hadn’t been due to his own efforts. He hadn’t been a bad officer in Japan. Now that Lupin wasn’t involved, this case should be a piece of cake.

“I’m glad to hear that. However, you won’t be working alone. You’re teaming up with someone from the United States for this one. She’ll go by the name Mary Maddox. You’ll be Suehiro Fujita. It’s a name that makes sense, right?”

“I’m sorry?”

“This isn’t going to be a criminal investigation. We’ve received a request for assistance in a witness protection case. It’s not something we normally do, but it affects multiple countries, so it was decided it’s better to build an international team. You’ll travel to a popular ski resort in Switzerland and meet with Maddox and the witness there.”

“And what exactly will we do there?”

“The witness is a young woman who saw something that could very well incriminate one of the most influential politicians in the United States. We’re talking of a senator here. There have long been suspicions that he has ties to the underworld, but they’ve been unable to find any concrete evidence. What she saw just might be the missing link that helps connect all the dots. For the time being, Maddox is acting as her sister and will take her to Switzerland on vacation. While there, you -”

“You mean, she’s been separated from her real family?”

The chief raised his brows at his observation, like he was surprised he thought something like that was worth pointing out.

“It’s for everyone’s safety. It’ll be easier for us to protect her this way. Anyway, you will meet them and pretend to be a Japanese tourist. You and Maddox will start a fake relationship so that you have an excuse to be close to them but also the freedom to move around without them.”

“What? I can’t… I can’t do that!” 

“Why not?”

“It’s not right! It’s never going to work!”

“Inspector, it’s fake. You’ll just be putting up appearances. You don’t have to do anything that you wouldn’t do in public anyway. You get that, right?”

Zenigata felt his confidence waver. It was a long time since he’d done an undercover job, and even those had been nothing more than visiting a suspicious bar or casino in disguise to see if anything was going on. This was entirely out of his league, especially with someone he had never met before. He could imagine himself bumbling his way through the ski resort and rolling off the mountain.

“Yes, sir,” he said in defeat.

“All you have to do is keep an eye on the witness and make sure nothing happens to her. She has to testify in three months, so this job will be over soon. After that, we’ll talk about Lupin again.”

“What? Why?”

“I want you back on that case, and it’s not just because I think you’re the best man for the job. I have some concerns about the man who replaced you.”

“Landheer? I thought he was a prodigy.”

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with him, other than the lack of experience in the field. But I worry about the people who put him on the case. There are bigger things at stake here than whether Lupin is arrested or not.”

It was strange to hear that because as far as Zenigata was concerned, there was nothing more important in the world. Or rather, there was nothing more important in his world. But he had to step out of it and leave Lupin behind. He’d find something new to call the most important thing in the world. Perhaps this case would help him do that.

“We’re minimizing leaving a paper trail that can be tracked, so you will get most of the information you need when you arrive. I have your address and travel documents for you here,” the chief said and handed him a brown envelope. Zenigata put it inside his coat and felt like he was starring in a spy movie.

The chief instructed the driver to stop the car and let Zenigata out. Only after he’d saluted the chief as goodbye did he realize that they were nowhere near the neighbourhood where his hotel was. He had to spend ten minutes examining a map he found at a bus stop before he figured out which way to go to get back.

It was a long walk, but he decided to endure it rather than take a bus. The evening was chilly, but it wasn’t raining. Some fresh air and exercise might help him sort out his thoughts.

The envelope wasn’t heavy in his pocket, but he was aware of its presence with every step he took. He’d take a look at it in the safety of his hotel room. Had it been a case involving Lupin, he would have torn it open and read through the contents already. He was in no hurry now. He almost dreaded it.

He’d sworn to move on and forget about Lupin, but he hadn’t thought the concrete step to do that would come this soon. Once he got on this case, he wouldn’t have time to mope about his feelings. He’d have to dedicate everything he had to protecting the witness. He couldn’t pretend it was just a lull between Lupin’s heists.

Zenigata raised the collar of his coat to protect his neck when a gust of wind blew past and made him shiver. It was getting darker, but Paris was always full of light. Street lamps spotted the sides of the roads and the windows of cafés and restaurants were inviting and alight. The sound of the people was pleasant background noise, happy voices and words that he understood only when he bothered to pay attention. Even then, half of it was gibberish to him.

He bought a sandwich and a cup of coffee and sat down to eat. The coffee warmed him enough that he no longer regretted his decision to walk and even thought it might turn into a pleasant evening. He had no reason to feel down. Not everybody got assigned on a top secret case like this, especially after having just resigned from another.

This was his new beginning. There might not be another ever again. He’d not just leave Lupin behind, he’d break free of him. He’d prove that he was worth his badge entirely on his own merits. He didn’t need Lupin to be something.

The thought made him feel hotter than the coffee ever could. He wanted Lupin, but he didn’t need him. It was a compromise he could live with.

He had to cross the Seine on his way back to the hotel. The closest bridge was one of the smaller in the city. Zenigata stopped to look down at the dark water and how the light of the street lamp nearby was reflected in the lazy movements of its surface.

People were passing by, but nobody even glanced at him. He could read the chief’s letter now. In fact, maybe it was better so. If there was the slightest possibility that the enemy knew he was on the case, they might be watching his hotel room. They might even try to steal the envelope. It was unlikely they’d succeed under his watchful eye, but if they did, it’d be embarrassing to tell the chief he’d lost the envelope without even having read the contents.

Turning around so that his back was to the river and face to the street, Zenigata took out the envelope and opened it. Inside, there was a typed letter, a train ticket and a handful of Swiss banknotes for him to pay his expenses across the border.

The letter was so bizarre that if he hadn’t gotten it from the chief, he’d have thought he was being pranked. There was an address for a place in Switzerland, the date he was supposed to arrive - and it was in just two days! - but no names or further details of the case. He realized that he didn’t know the name of the person he was protecting, what crime she’d witnessed or who exactly their enemy was. How was he supposed to keep her out of danger?

Well, the chief had said they didn’t want to leave a trail. Maddox would tell him everything he needed to know. He had more important matters to worry about, such as how he’d make it to the destination in just two days. He’d have to take the following day off just to make phone calls, plan the route and hop on a train.

Out of habit, he hadn’t unpacked his suitcase after returning from Japan. It was under his bed at the hotel, ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice. Some experience he’d gained chasing Lupin was at least proving to be useful.

Oh, Lupin. Zenigata slipped the envelope back inside his coat and turned to look at the water again. He didn’t know where Lupin had been born, but at that moment he wanted to believe Paris was his home. He’d made up his mind to say goodbye in Japan, but now he was really doing it, and he wanted the place to hold some significance.

He should have brought along the newspaper with Lupin’s picture and thrown it into the Seine. Zenigata snorted at the thought and dug into his pockets for a cigarette. How sentimental, and not his style. But Lupin might have appreciated it. He was plenty theatrical for them both.

Zenigata drew in one final lungful of smoke, flipped the cigarette into the river and started walking towards his hotel.

***

“Damn cold tonight.”

Lupin agreed with an absent-minded hum, leaning his chin on his hands, which in turn were resting on his crossed legs, and stared at the sky. There was nothing there as it was covered in clouds, and it was already too dark to see them. They were staying at a quiet part of the city with no restaurants or shops, so there was only a little light.

“I mean, what’s with the weather over here? It was so warm just two weeks ago.”

“Mmh.”

“I’m trying to keep the conversation going, you know?”

“By talking about the weather? Come on, Jigen. Even Goemon can do better.”

“You aren’t exactly offering me a lot of material here! And give me that. It’s my turn.” 

Jigen reached out to grab the cigarette that was between Lupin’s lips. It was the last cigarette they had. Lupin had been in such a hurry to pack up and get to Paris that he hadn’t let them stop on the way. They’d arrived hungry, thirsty, cranky, and fighting over the bathroom. The apartment from the last time they’d been in Paris was still undiscovered, so they’d settled there, though Lupin was starting to regret it.

The camera equipment they’d used to contact Zenigata’s kidnappers was still in the living room. It was a reminder he didn’t want, not now when that whole incident was turning into a complete fiasco. He’d told Jigen to put it away in the closet while Fujiko and Goemon went to get them something to eat.

Lupin had climbed on the roof of the building, an easy task since their apartment was on the top floor. It was chilly, just as Jigen had said, but he preferred that to being inside. At least for now when there was no food.

Between the four of them, there had been only one cigarette left when they’d arrived in Paris. Lupin had lit it, just a little before Jigen had climbed out the attic window to join him. He hadn’t asked if he could share it. Some things went without question.

“I’m not in the mood for idle chit chat. If you’re cold, go back inside,” he said.

“This is where the cigarette is,” Jigen said and handed it back. “And besides, you’re moping.”

Lupin waited if Jigen would continue, but he seemed content to lie on his back on the roof tiles with one knee crossed over the other. His hat was covering most of his face, and with the roof shrouded in darkness, it was almost impossible to see him.

“A guy shouldn’t mope alone, huh?” Lupin guessed. “Hmph. Hypocrite.”

“I’m sure Zenigata is fine.”

“I’ll know that when I visit the ICPO offices tomorrow.”

“Yeah? What’re you going to do? Ask him what’s up with that kid who’s doing his job?”

Lupin shrugged. “Why not?”

“You’re nuts. You should just take advantage of the fact that work will be easier from now on.”

“Like it was ever hard! That’s not the point. You helped me save him last time, so you’ll do it again, right?”

“If he’s in trouble and if it doesn’t turn into a chore, sure. I’m still mad about that birthday party. There was a lot of good stuff we could’ve grabbed.”

Lupin offered Jigen the rest of the cigarette, but he didn’t want it. It looked like he’d have to do more to smooth things over, and he would. First he just had to find out what was going on with Zenigata. If he really was off the case, he had to find out why, and how to get him back on it. Because anything else was an end result that he wouldn’t accept.


	5. Chapter 5

There was no point in visiting the ICPO offices that early in the morning. Only some night staff and guards would be present. Fujiko had told him exactly that. He’d briefly considered suggesting that he’d go back to sleep if he could come to her bed, but he’d known what those words would earn him. She was always so cold to him when she could tell he was thinking about someone else. Well, no matter. It seemed his irritation at whatever game Zenigata was playing with him was having such a toll on him that it had turned off his libido.

Look what you do to me, Pops, he thought angrily, huddled under a blanket he’d brought from their apartment and lying on a park bench a few streets away from the offices. He sneezed and blew into his hands that were holding the fabric around him. Rain had caught him two hours ago, but he’d been too stubborn to move. He wanted to see Zenigata walk past here and go to work.

What he’d do after that, he wasn’t sure. For now, it was enough to see him - so that he could be sure he really had come back to work and wasn’t still in Japan. Lupin hadn’t checked that in his haste to prepare the best welcome back heist in the world. Now, he could have kicked himself for it, but he honestly hadn’t considered it possible that Zenigata wouldn’t be there. Could a man be blamed for not thinking that the sun wouldn’t rise the following day? No! That’s what Goemon would say. Therefore, not an oversight on his part.

He sneezed again, and a shiver went through him, right to the tips of his toes. Shit, he was going to catch a cold at this rate. He sat up and rubbed his arms to warm them up but kept his eyes on the street. The steady stream of people hurrying to work was growing, but so far, no familiar faces.

Maybe he overslept, he thought in spiteful amusement. Tsk, tsk, having gone soft on vacation. That should get him a good scolding from his superiors.

Then he felt a little bad. He shouldn’t take his terrible mood out on Zenigata. He was here to make things right, and if he walked in with a sneer on his face, they’d just repeat what had happened last time. As much as it got under his skin, this time he should offer him a fair handshake.

A few hours later, there was still no sign of Zenigata. It was starting to get irritating. A pigeon had taken a liking to him and landed on his head whenever he was still for longer than half a minute, which made his attempts at spying on the passers-by more than a little difficult.

“Fine!” he snapped, jumped to his feet and threw away the blanket. He’d take a more aggressive approach and go to the offices himself. Maybe Zenigata had pulled an all-nighter. Wouldn’t be the first time. He was the type who didn’t stop working before he collapsed.

He’d prepared a simple disguise before he’d left. He still had the fake ID he’d used earlier to get information on Zenigata’s time off and the rubber mask that’d transform him into a visiting officer from Bordeaux. That should work, as he hadn’t done anything to raise suspicions the last time he’d played that role.

Lupin marched in with the kind of confidence that he didn’t have to do more than briefly flash his ID to the security. He stopped a pretty secretary in the lobby and asked where he could find Zenigata.

“He’s got a temporary office in 205 in the basement, but -”

“Thanks, catch you later, sweet-pie!”

As soon as he was out of sight, Lupin started running. Nobody else was going to the basement, so he didn’t have to worry about appearances. It took him no time to find the right door. He stopped right in front of it to even his breathing and to straighten his tie.

He knocked on the door. No answer.

“Inspector? Inspector Zenigata?”

The door wasn’t locked, so Lupin pulled it open and stepped inside.

There was nobody in the room. It was a windowless dump, so small that he wouldn’t have been surprised to hear it was a cleaning storage turned into an office. A wooden desk, a chair and a trash bin were the only pieces of furniture. There was a typewriter and a coffee mug on the desk, but the coffee was cold and there was no paper in the machine. It didn’t look like anyone had been there that morning.

“What the hell?” Lupin wondered. He pulled open all the drawers, but all he found were paperclips and blank sheets of paper. The bang when he slammed them all shut again was too loud for the tiny room.

Zenigata didn’t have his own place in Paris, so he had to be staying at a hotel. The ICPO was most likely paying for it, so someone around here had to know what hotel it was. He’d go and ask. There were a billion good excuses he could give them.

At the door, he stopped. He went back to the typewriter and inserted a sheet of paper from the drawer.

_THINKING ABOUT RETIREMENT? ONLY LOSERS GIVE UP, POPS.  
YOURS, L3_

He wished he had time to type his trademark smiley face using letter art, but he had more important things to do. To make sure he didn’t have to talk to more people than necessary, he found the same secretary from before and asked her about Zenigata. 

“It’s very important that I find him, you see. You don’t happen to know why he’s not in his office today?”

“I don’t know anything about the investigative work, sir. I just sort the mail, answer the phone and make coffee,” she said.

“Then, surely you know where his mail is delivered? Or does he not get any?”

“Well...”

So, he didn’t get any. Lupin held back a sigh and tried to collect himself. He was being uncharacteristically rude to the secretary. She was a pretty thing with dark hair that she’d braided and the kind of lips that were begging to be kissed. Another day, he would have gotten her number first and Zenigata’s address second.

“Look, just let me know what hotel he’s staying at. That can’t be confidential.”

And it wasn’t. He got the address after a few smooth lies and a promise to put in a good word for her - turned out she was qualified for much more than making coffee. He sprinted out and took a cab to the hotel.

He didn’t want to alert Zenigata that he was coming, so he took a room with his fake identity to get access to the upper floors. Zenigata had one of the cheapest rooms, as usual. The hallway was eerily quiet as Lupin walked towards it. He didn’t know if the soft thumping was his heart or his feet on the carpet.

The last time he’d snuck into Zenigata’s hotel room had turned into a disaster. This was another chance. He should do everything differently. He began to count with his fingers.

Don’t laugh at him. Don’t call him old. Don’t make fun of his salary. 

Don’t make him cry.

He drew a deep breath when he found the right door and raised his hand to knock on it. It took a lot to make him nervous. He could climb up a skyscraper and jump into a storm of bullets without thinking twice about it, but facing Zenigata right now was putting him on edge.

Then again, he thought as he worked up the courage to knock on the door, the outcome of this conversation would have just as dire an effect on him. If Zenigata didn’t come back, the rest of his life would be like scaling a wall without a harness.

I’ll apologize, he decided. He hadn’t come here with that intention, but now he knew it was what he wanted to do.

There was no answer from the room. Lupin didn’t have the patience to knock again, so he pulled out a pin and turned it around in the lock with such ease it might have been a key. He entered the room and could immediately tell that he had arrived too late. 

The room was empty. The bed was made. There were no clothes on the floor or hanging on wardrobe doors. No toothbrush in the bathroom. When he called out in his own voice, there was no reply. If Zenigata had been there, he would have rushed out of any hiding place to put cuffs on his wrists.

Right? Lupin sat down on the bed, then fell on his back and crossed his hands on his stomach as he began to contemplate it. Maybe he’d been wrong after all. He’d thought there was some kind of a conspiracy going on and that either he or Zenigata was the intended victim. But perhaps it was nothing that complicated.

Perhaps there was no grand scheme to arrest him. Perhaps nobody wanted to ruin Zenigata’s reputation and frame him for something. Could it be that he’d honestly just dropped the case? Had that incident in Paris been enough to make him quit? It was unthinkable, but Lupin was starting to get the feeling it was the truth and that trying to find something more complex going on behind the scenes was just deluding himself.

A pungent feeling began to well up inside him. Zenigata had no right to call it quits like that and drop him without at least letting him know. Would it have been that hard to… what exactly? Lupin pounded at the mattress with his feet as he tried to make sense of what he would have liked. Acknowledgement that he had been too good for Zenigata to catch? The chance to have the last laugh? A goodbye?

And it really was going to be goodbye, he realized. If Zenigata was not chasing him, they had no reason to see each other ever again. He’d often joked about how much easier his life would be if he didn’t have him running after him and showing up at the most inconvenient times, but to be honest…

It hadn’t been that annoying half the time. When the road got tough, Zenigata was a man who’d catch you if you lost your footing. He was so honest and such an overachiever that it couldn’t be healthy, but Lupin liked the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. It wasn’t common for cops. He’d seen so much corruption in some police departments that it’d give mob bosses nightmares. All things considered, he was lucky it had been Zenigata chasing him all these years and not someone who didn’t mind bringing him in with a bullet in his back.

And now it was over? Zenigata was dropping everything they had because Lupin had made one mistake? He wouldn’t give him a chance to make up for it? Just who did he think he was? Lupin had come here to apologize, but Zenigata wouldn’t even see him?

“I’m not going to play some stupid role reversal game with him! He’s supposed to chase me! Not the other way around!”

The lack of reaction to his declaration was infuriating. The room shouldn’t have been empty. Lupin grabbed the pillow from under his head and tossed it at the opposite wall. After a few breaths to calm down, he started searching the room for any clues that Zenigata might have left behind.

He found nothing. The hotel’s notice book by the phone was empty and the imprints on it suggested the last note was a grocery list in Spanish. Nothing in the ashtray on the bedside table. No personal items forgotten in the room, not even a sock. It was as if Zenigata had never even been there.

Lupin pushed his disappointment away and took up his role as an ICPO officer once more. He presented his fake ID at the reception and asked about Zenigata. The answer he got was that he’d checked out that morning, before dawn, but hadn’t said where he was going.

He had two options to choose from. He could go back to the Paris headquarters and try to get something out of one of the high-ranking officers or even the chief. But that’d take more time and planning than he was in the mood for. Though he liked to laugh at the police, anyone who made it that far wasn’t incompetent enough to blab sensitive information to just anyone who asked. His identity would be checked, and he’d rather keep this role as a trump card for emergencies.

The other thing he could do was start looking at the root of the problem. Zenigata had been in Japan for two weeks. Anything could have happened to him there. Perhaps there’d been family problems. Maybe he was withdrawing from the case not because he didn’t want to catch him anymore but because there were new responsibilities that he couldn’t turn down. Zenigata was a lot like Goemon with his thoughts of what a man should do.

Self-sacrificing fool, Lupin mused with something resembling affection. He felt a little foolish that he hadn’t considered this possibility before. It shouldn’t be hard to get his hands on the passenger lists of all the flights heading to Japan. If Zenigata was on one, Lupin could feel secure that his departure wasn’t his fault.

And if he had someone or something else to blame, getting started on fixing things would be so much easier. 

It was still too chilly for his liking, the touch of the night’s rain lingering in the air, as he left the hotel and started heading back to their hideout. He hoped Jigen or Fujiko had had the sense to keep hot coffee waiting for him.

***

Zenigata had been on the train for a couple of hours when he realized that he’d forgotten to bring a packed lunch. He’d skipped breakfast at the hotel, too agitated to even think about eating. There was only a cup of coffee he’d grabbed at the station in his stomach, and at his age, that was a habit he should drop for his own sake.

They’d be in Switzerland soon. He’d buy something at the station since he had some time to kill in-between changing trains.

His destination was a tourist town in the mountains. He’d been to Switzerland a few times before, on Lupin’s trail, but this was the first time he came across the name Klostergarten. Whether that meant the town wasn’t among the most popular holiday destinations or that he just hadn’t registered anything that wasn’t connected to Lupin, he couldn’t say.

Some time after him changing trains, a man carrying two large suitcases joined him. He was having trouble, so Zenigata offered to help him put them up in the luggage compartment. The man thanked him, saying that he might not have managed it alone with his bad back. Then, he wanted to know where Zenigata was going.

“Klostergarten,” he said before he remembered that he was on a secret mission. Maybe he shouldn’t talk to strangers. “To ski,” he added hastily.

“It’s a bit off season, isn’t it? Not much you can do there in August.”

“Erm...”

“I assume you’re headed to Klein Matterhorn? Find a hotel closer to it. No reason to stay in Klostergarten when there’s no snow.”

“Sorry, my bad English. I didn’t mean ski, I meant I’m going there to see... the mountains.”

“Ah! Then there’s no better place. The views are magnificent, and this time of the year, the town isn’t full of tourists. You’ll have a good time. Just be careful if you go climbing or you’ll end up like the poor fellow they found two months ago.”

“Did something happen?”

The man shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s not enough for skiing, but there’s a peak close by where the snow never melts. This is a hot summer, though, and some parts that are normally always covered in ice melted. The water washed down a body.”

“What? Who was it?”

“That was not in the papers, but it seems he’d been up there for decades.”

“That’s horrible! Hasn’t anyone come forward to claim him?”

“People go missing in the Alps all the time, and some of them are found only years later, if at all. There may not be anyone left who misses him.”

Zenigata looked out the window at the lush green that was flashing by. In summer, there were goats and cows grazing outside, and every town the train passed was picturesque enough that he felt they were travelling through a fantasy world. The mountains in the distance were majestic, their white-clad peaks reaching for the skies. It was chilling to think that there were such tragic fates hidden under such an idyllic scenery.

“Sorry. Hope I didn’t ruin your vacation,” the man said.

“Oh, no! I was just thinking that I’ll be careful and not wander off the marked paths.” He didn’t want to die in a beautiful place like this, but what he wanted even less was to disappear. He’d sent Kazuko a letter saying that he wouldn’t contact her for a while because of important work. If he died here and his body was never found, for how long would she keep waiting for him to come back before she lost hope?

And what of Lupin? Would he ever notice that he was gone?

No, he’d sworn he’d stop thinking about Lupin. If he let himself be distracted like that, he’d certainly stumble over his own feet and have an accident in the mountains. It was better to assume that Lupin was busy plotting another heist, or amusing himself with women in a place like Nice.

The man got off two stations later, as did most of the other passengers. Zenigata’s instructions said to travel to the final station and wait for his contact there. The closer they got, the more it felt like something was wrong with his stomach. Maybe it was that the train kept going steadily up in a way that he wasn’t used to, or that he hadn’t had more than coffee and a sandwich all day. He didn’t want to think he was nervous about the job. Someone with his years of experience shouldn’t get cold feet like that.

The station was nearly empty when Zenigata got off. A quick look at the timetables told him that the train he’d just arrived by was the only long-distance line operating that day. There were more in winter when the town was full of tourists, but in summertime, there was no need for regular trains.

It might make the job a little easier, he thought. If there was only one quick way to reach the town, it shouldn’t be hard to keep an eye on who was coming and going. If anyone came for the witness, they’d know.

He put his suitcase down and sat on a bench on the platform. His instructions said he’d be contacted, so he didn’t think it was a good idea to move anywhere. After a few moments of twiddling his thumbs, he picked up a newspaper that someone had stuffed into the trash bin to his left. He was hoping for French, but it turned out to be in German.

“Excuse me? Hello?”

Zenigata looked up from the newspaper to see a woman approaching him, half-running. She was on the taller side, almost reaching his height, and the loose sleeves of her red blouse made her look like a flag flapping in the wind. She had dark hair coming down just above her shoulders and a face he couldn’t read because she was wearing sunglasses.

“What time is it? Did I miss the train?”

“Uh, yes. You’re about fifteen minutes late.”

She made a frustrated click with her tongue and lifted her sunglasses to her forehead. “Damn. So much for going shopping today. Oh, well. Maybe I’ll think of something else.” She gave him a long look, pursing her lips, and Zenigata couldn’t help but feel like a slab of meat being judged.

Then, the woman offered him her hand, and he shook it, realizing only after grabbing it that it’d be the polite thing to stand up.

“I haven’t seen you here before, and I’ve been here for a few days. Did you just arrive?” she asked.

“Yes, I came to see the mountains. I’m, uh... Suehiro Fujita.” It was strange to introduce himself with a fake name. Maybe he should tell everyone he had hearing problems because he doubted he’d remember to respond every time someone called him by that name.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Mary Maddox. Maybe we can get to know each other better since we’re both on vacation.”

Maddox! She was the agent he was supposed to meet! Zenigata let go of her hand and fell back on the bench with a comical quack. She was younger than he’d assumed, maybe in her thirties. And beautiful enough that people would look at them and wonder what she was doing with someone like him. Their fake relationship would just make them stand out even more.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m just...” It shouldn’t have been that hard to get a coherent sentence out of his mouth, but he hadn’t given any thought to how he should act around her, and he’d never been smooth around women. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met!”

Annoyance briefly flashed on her face, but then she laughed. “Aren’t you the charmer! Do you already have a place to stay? No? Then let me show you the hotel where I’m staying with my sister.”

Right, the witness. Zenigata took a look around the platform, but they were the only people there. Had Maddox left the witness at the hotel? Was that safe?

Maddox turned to look in the direction where she’d come from. “Donna! Come over here and say hello to my new friend!”

Nothing happened. Maddox gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. She wanted a seaside vacation, so she’s been sulking the whole time. Let’s go and find her.”

Zenigata let her lead him away from the platform and to the comfortable shadow of the station building. It had two floors, the first stone that had been painted white and the second built out of dark wood. There were bright flowers growing in pots by the second floor windows, and Zenigata wondered if someone lived there.

There was a bench by the building. A woman was sitting on it, irritation radiating from her. She had her arms crossed on her chest, was tapping the ground with her foot, and turned to look away when Zenigata and Maddox got closer.

“Looks like we’re going to have to go shopping tomorrow. Mr. Fujita told me we just missed the train,” Maddox said.

“Hmph. Another day doing nothing in this boring dump, then.”

“Don’t be like that! We’re on vacation. Let’s get back to the hotel so that Mr. Fujita can get himself a room.”

“That’s very kind, but I don’t want to be trouble. I can find the hotel myself,” Zenigata said before he remembered that he was supposed to stick with these people. But Maddox only smiled at him as she shooed Donna to her feet.

“Nonsense. She’s right about one thing. There’s not a lot to do here, so it’s not a problem at all. In any case, this is my sister, Donna. I’ve always wanted to see the Alps but didn’t want to travel alone, so I finally convinced her to come with me.”

“More like forced me,” Donna muttered, and Zenigata got the feeling that was no act. It made sense for her to be resentful, he decided. She hadn’t asked to be sent to the other side of the world with complete strangers and for her life to be in danger.

He thought they’d done a good job picking the most suitable agent for the case. Donna was younger and there was a reddish hue in her hair that Maddox lacked, but the shape of their faces was similar. They both had a nose that turned up slightly. If he hadn’t known the truth, he would have thought they were related just by looking at them.

Maddox blabbed loudly the whole time as they were walking through the town. The train station was on the edges of it, close to nothing important and clearly just a place for tourists to arrive and gather at. As they followed the road up, they reached the top of a hill from which Zenigata could finally see the the town, nestled tightly in a small valley.

There was a lake at the bottom. Houses stood around it, almost all of them multiple stories high and white or pale brown with darker timber framing or entire walls panelled above the ground floor. Window shutters that were painted red, green, or blue brought color to the houses. The road that slithered between them was paved and just about wide enough for cars to pass each other, but Zenigata nevertheless felt like he’d stepped inside the pages of a storybook. A small church stood on the other side of the lake, far enough from the houses to immediately catch his attention.

“There aren’t a lot of people around,” he noted. He would have imagined that a place this beautiful would be bustling with life.

“A lot of these buildings are now hotels and restaurants, but they aren’t open this time of the year. People come here to ski. There aren’t many good hiking routes here, so few have any reason to come here in summer,” Maddox explained.

“But you’re here,” Zenigata said.

“I’m looking for some peace and quiet. If you want, I can tell you a little about myself over dinner.”

“Sure, I’d love that.”

There was an unimpressed snort from Donna, but thankfully they arrived at the hotel before Zenigata had to make more small talk. There were plenty of free rooms, but Maddox asked the receptionist to give him one that was right next to her and Donna’s. She showed him the way upstairs.

“Why don’t you come to our room once you’re settled in? I’ll ask room service for some coffee. It’s so nice that there’s finally someone to talk to,” Maddox suggested as Zenigata was fumbling with the key to his room.

“Yeah, uh, give me fifteen minutes.”

The room was larger than Zenigata was used to, meant for two people, and the double bed and the big bathroom were luxuries he couldn’t normally afford. He placed his suitcase by the bed and looked around, unsure what to do with all the space he suddenly had. Two armchairs, a closet, a desk with drawers, a couch table, all things he wasn’t going to need. Hotel rooms were always simple, but this one made him feel lonely like never before.

There was a small balcony, too. The door was a little jammed, but he finally got it open and stepped outside to look at the view. His room was on the highest floor, so he could see right above most of the buildings in town and get a good look at the lake. The water was still as a mirror, a deep blue with reflections of the mountains rising on the other side of it. He couldn’t hear any human voices from the streets. It was unfathomable to think that the town should be so empty when everything was so beautiful, and Zenigata couldn’t help but get an eerie feeling, like this was the calm before the storm. He thought about the story the man on the train had told him of the old corpse and felt a chill go down his spine.

He went back to his room and closed the balcony door, careful to lock it. If someone tried to come in through it, they’d have to make enough noise to alert him first.

It was for the best to focus on his work for now, so he went to knock on the door to Maddox and Donna’s room. A sing-song voice from inside told him to wait just a moment, then a click of the lock, and he was told to enter.

The room was identical to his, except that Maddox and Donna had stayed there long enough to fill it with signs of life. There were clothes draped over furniture and the door to the bathroom, magazines on the table, and snack wrappers in the trash. He saw a few empty beer bottles under the bed but decided to pretend he hadn’t.

Donna was lying on the bed on her stomach, leaning her head on her hands as she read a magazine. She didn’t even look up when Zenigata entered, and he had to clear his throat to get her attention.

“What?” she asked.

“Is Maddox here?”

“She’s taking a shower. Give her a minute.”

“Oh, okay.” 

There was nowhere for him to sit unless he moved the clothes on the armchairs, and he didn’t dare touch them, so all he could do was stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. Donna was back to ignoring him in favor of the magazine. He couldn’t hear the sound of running water, so maybe Maddox was almost done.

“So...” he started, “you’re the witness?”

“Yeah,” Donna said, not looking up.

“What exactly did you see?”

“I’m not supposed to say that to anyone. What if you’re a spy? Then again,” she said and snorted, turning to glance at him briefly, “with that dumb face, I doubt it.”

“Hey! I’m an inspector of the ICPO and I’m...” Zenigata drifted off as he remembered that he couldn’t say he was in charge of the Lupin investigation anymore, or that he was the only man who could hope to capture him. What was he, then?

But he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone who he really was. Not blurting out his name to everyone who asked just might turn out to be the hardest part of the entire case.

“Let me guess, Donna isn’t your real name?” he asked.

“Of course not. And this isn’t my real hair color. I’ve had to drop everything just because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But you’re doing your civil duty and making sure justice happens! That’s something to be proud of!”

“Oh, blah! I’m missing a semester of college. My boyfriend thinks I’m taking a time-out from our relationship and has no idea where I am. I shouldn’t have to do this!”

“Ah… I’m sorry.” Zenigata wasn’t sure what else to say. Personally, those were sacrifices that he would have made for greater justice, but he was a man. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to expect a woman in her early twenties to think alike, especially since she hadn’t asked for her part.

“It’s for everyone’s safety,” Maddox said as she stepped out of the bathroom. She was dressed in a long robe provided by the hotel and was wrapping her hair up in a towel. Zenigata turned to look away, even if there wasn’t anything indecent for him to see. It just wasn’t right to look at a woman wearing a bathrobe when he didn’t know her.

He heard her sit down on the bed.

“Inspector, turn around. We have a lot to discuss, and I don’t want to talk to your back.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not that shy. Let’s not waste any more time.” The earlier silliness was out of Maddox’s voice, and Zenigata hurried to do as she said. It was tempting to salute her. She sounded commanding, like a military officer, and he wondered if she outranked him.

Donna had moved away from the bed to give all the space to Maddox. She was now in one of the armchairs, still holding the magazine but no longer reading it. Zenigata didn’t want to be snapped at again, so he sat down in the chair that was free.

“So, about this case -”

“I will tell you everything you need to know,” Maddox said and began to explain.


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m telling you, I’m not flying to the other side of the world just to satisfy your curiosity. Go by yourself,” Jigen said. He’d been saying the same thing ever since Lupin had returned from his investigation and suggested that they should go to Japan and find out what had happened when Zenigata had visited his sister.

Fujiko had said the same thing. There were multiple profitable work options for her in Europe, and she wasn’t going to waste them just to amuse him. Lupin was starting to feel like the entire world had turned against him. First Zenigata disappeared from his life without a word, then his best friends refused to help. They were supposed to have his back, but instead they were giving him lip.

“It’s boring to travel alone,” he whined.

Goemon cleared his throat. “I never said I object.”

“Really? Thanks! Now I know who my true friend is!”

“What do you expect to discover even if you go?” Fujiko asked. She was reading a magazine and didn’t even lift her eyes from the pages as she spoke. “If it’s a family matter grave enough to make him drop the case, why would his sister tell you anything?”

Her words annoyed him more than he expected. If it was something serious, then he had all the right to know. Zenigata had been after him for years. As far as Lupin knew, he’d given up everything to arrest him. A connection like that couldn’t be severed on a whim. If Zenigata was in trouble, why wouldn’t he at least let him know and tell him he’d return once he’d dealt with his problems?

A petty, possessive thought crossed his mind. Zenigata’s sister hadn’t seen him in years. There had been little to no contact between them after Zenigata had left Japan to pursue him. How could she suddenly be that important to him? More important than _him?_ What had happened to their fated rivalry and shared destiny that Zenigata liked to make epic declarations about?

“Yeah, just forget it,” Jigen agreed from the couch.

“Listen to yourselves! When did you get to pathetic? Where’s your pride?”

“I’ve got plenty.” Sharp irritation had crept into Jigen’s voice. “You’re the one who’s mewling like a wet kitten because Zenigata dropped you. Get a grip.”

“Hey! Say that again!”

“Sure! You’re mewling like a -”

Jigen’s words got cut off when he was smacked on the head with the handle of the Zantetsuken.

“In a crisis, we must stand united,” Goemon said. 

“The crisis here is that we’re skipping on work because he’s moping about Zenigata! Fujiko had a good idea for a heist, but he doesn’t want to do it. And you know me, I’d normally throw a party because he’s saying no to her, but this is ridiculous. We should be glad that Zenigata isn’t bothering us.”

“Oh, that’s new,” Lupin said. “Last time he was in trouble, you used loaded dice to decide if you’d help me save him.”

“The keyword here is that he was in _trouble,_ ” Fujiko threw in.

“And I didn’t do it for him,” Jigen said, grabbing his hat to cover his face to show that he was done talking about it.

That should have been the moment when he softened his stance, Lupin knew. This was his opening to end the argument and make up with the others, to apologize for dragging them back to Paris on a wild goose chase and for expecting them to do whatever he asked of them. Jigen was quick to anger, but it was easy to smooth things over with him. Fujiko could be reasoned with. And Goemon didn’t even seem to be mad.

“Fine, let’s do the heist,” he said instead. That would keep them happy for a while. And besides, he could try to get Zenigata’s attention again. Crashing that old fart’s birthday party had happened right after his return from Japan. Lupin realized he’d been too impatient and acted too fast. If he made this heist flashy enough and gave him time to catch up to him, maybe Zenigata would be there.

Fujiko had offered good job to them. There was a lesser known Picasso at the Musée de l’Orangerie that held a great deal of personal value to the collector who’d contacted her. Meanwhile, Louvre was about to put on display a Monet that someone had donated to them. Everyone’s eyes would be there and they’d think that if he was going to pull something off, he’d be cocky enough to grab the Monet the night before the grand opening.

“Nobody will think we’d actually go for something else in an entirely different museum,” Fujiko had said as she’d presented the job to them.

They threw themselves into planning. He and Goemon would visit the museum in disguise later that day to get a feel of the place and see if anything was out of the ordinary. Fujiko would prepare their disguises and gear, and Jigen the getaway car. A job so straightforward it was almost laughable.

And Zenigata would try to stop them, like he was meant to, Lupin thought as he began to write a note inside his head.

***

Night had fallen over the Alps, but Zenigata couldn’t sleep. He was standing on the balcony of his room, eyes fixed down on the sleeping town. If it could be called that. He’d talked to the man at the reception, and it turned out theirs was the only hotel open this time of the year. There were some people living in Klostergarten around the year, but most were seasonal workers who arrived together with snow.

It was sad. The town had once been full of normal life, but a travel company had bought the majority of the buildings and turned them into hotels and restaurants. A major ski slope was to be opened in a few years.

Still, he preferred staring down at the dark town with only a few dots of lights in the windows. If he looked up, he became overwhelmed by the endless stars spotting the vast sky. It was too much to take and made him feel small and insignificant. He couldn’t have any doubts now.

He wondered if Lupin was still in France, or if he’d moved on. What did he think when he was standing under starry skies like this? Maybe imagined that each star was a diamond for him to steal. Lupin was not the type of man who felt intimidated by his own mortality.

Maddox had filled him in on what was going on, but he didn’t feel like he knew much more than what the chief had already told him. She hadn’t given him any names - not of the senator who was under suspicion, her or Donna’s real identities, or who it was who was after them. He didn’t need to know that to be able to protect them, she’d said, and his life would be easier after the case if he didn’t have to shoulder too much information. 

It made him feel like she didn’t trust him. If all they needed was some muscle, there were plenty of people - younger, stronger - who would have done a better job. He’d assumed he’d been put on this case because of the skills and experience he’d gathered while chasing Lupin, but perhaps the chief had buttered him up a little too much. Maybe they hadn’t had anyone else available on such short notice.

Always the same, he thought. But at least they’d told him what had happened to Donna. She’d been waiting for a friend who worked as a waitress at a club when she’d seen a group of men enter. One of them had been an important political figure who shouldn’t have been anywhere near that club, especially the back entrance, as it was one of the places where the local mob ran their business from. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time but had mentioned it to one of her professors, who’d realized how significant it was.

She’d been questioned, over and over, and been asked to recognize the man’s face among a hundred of photos. She was sure she’d seen the senator, and while that wouldn’t get him convicted, it was enough to start a full investigation into his connections. Her testimony would be needed in a few month’s time, and until then, she had to stay in hiding.

Zenigata fished a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. They were dealing with a senator. Someone that high had more than enough money to hire the best assassins if he thought it’d save his hide. He couldn’t bungle this and let that innocent woman die.

With a burst of determination, he stubbed out the cigarette after only one lungful of smoke. He had no time to waste standing here. He had to investigate! Maddox had told him not to stick his nose everywhere or he’d look suspicious, but he’d be careful.

The first thing on his list was to become familiar with the hotel’s staff. If he didn’t, how would he know if someone who didn’t belong there was around? What if he let room service into Maddox and Donna’s room, and it turned out to be a disguised killer?

The middle of the night was a bad time to start interviewing people because all the guests were in their rooms and most of the staff at home. The only person he could talk to was the young man at the reception. He’d been there when Zenigata had checked in, and he wondered if he ever slept.

“Hey there,” he greeted when he arrived at the lobby.

There was a crash as the man fell off his stool and disappeared behind the counter, bringing the guestbook with him. Zenigata ran over and pulled him up to his feet.

“Sorry! I guess I startled you. Are you alright?”

The man looked fine, if a little dazed. He leaned his entire weight on the counter and rubbed his eyes. 

“I was asleep,” he said.

“On duty?”

“Nobody’s going to come here at a time like this! I’m only here in case something happens.”

Zenigata slammed his hands on the counter. “And that’s why you shouldn’t sleep on the job!”

“Sure, sure, won’t happen again. Is there something I can do for you?” The man picked up the guestbook and put it back on the counter, closing it. Zenigata was quick enough to catch a glimpse of the current page. Apart from him, Maddox and Donna, there were five people listed as having arrived within the past week. He’d have to speak to all of them.

“At this hour? Not much,” he said. “I just had trouble sleeping and I wanted someone to talk to.”

The look on the receptionist’s face said that talking with a stranger was the last thing he wanted. “How about I bring some tea to your room, sir? That might help you sleep.”

“Thank you, but it’s fine. It’s a pretty hot night.” Zenigata spent a moment trying to find a way to direct the conversation towards the receptionist. He had a name tag on his chest that said James.

“That’s not a very Swiss name, is it?” he asked.

“That’s because I’m American.”

“Huh?” Zenigata hadn’t expected that. An American, here? Right now? “Why is an American working here?”

“Why not? I’ve been travelling around Europe, stopping to work here and there.”

“But _here?_ There’s not a lot going on.” Highly suspicious, Zenigata decided. It’d be impossible to check a story like that.

“Is this some kind of an interrogation? I just wanted something quiet for a change.”

“When did you start here?”

“A few weeks ago.”

Perfect timing. If there was a leak, the mob could have heard where they planned to hide Donna and sent a hitman to lie in wait. It’d look like an accident or a regular murder first, and the killer would be long gone before anyone started asking the right questions.

The only thing that didn’t fit was that James hadn’t tried anything. Maddox and Donna had been here long enough that surely he had had opportunities to kill them. All he had to do was poison their food, Zenigata realized, suddenly glad he’d declined the tea.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, maybe you should go back to your room. How will you enjoy your stay if you don’t get any sleep at night?”

“Oh, this is nothing. I’m used to going a long time with no sleep.” Though to be fair, he was feeling more tired than usual. Maybe it was the long train trip, or maybe no other case but Lupin’s gave him the will to keep working with no rest.

“I’m not,” James said, starting to sound desperate. He yawned mightily, then froze in the middle of it when they both heard footsteps coming down the stairs. It was Donna.

“Oh, you’re up. What a surprise. Yesterday I had to pull your ear to get you awake,” she said.

“Ms. Maddox! Nice to see you again!” 

Zenigata watched how all exhaustion disappeared from James’s face. When Donna had her back turned to them and was choosing something from a vending machine, he pulled a comb from his pocket and slicked back his dark hair.

Genuine attraction, or faking it to get an excuse to get close to her? Hard to say at this point, but he should bring this up with Maddox later. It couldn’t be okay that Donna wandered around the hotel by herself like this.

“Maybe I’ll have a late night snack, too,” Zenigata said and patted his pockets for some coins. He went to look what the machine had to offer, hovering behind Donna as she made her choice.

“Does your sister know you’re not in bed?” he asked in a low voice.

“Give me a break. I can take five minutes to myself sometimes.”

“Five minutes is more than enough for something to go wrong.”

“Hey!” James called out from the reception. “Is he bothering you?”

Donna didn’t even turn around, just waved lazily with her hand. “Don’t worry, Jamie. He’s after my sister, not me.”

Jamie? Just how close were these two if she was already calling him by a nickname? Hadn’t she said she had a boyfriend back home? Zenigata tried to find an answer in her body language as she took her can of coke to the counter and started chatting with James about what a boring day they’d both had.

He took a seat on a couch by the front doors and began to browse through a sightseeing catalogue while he munched on his chocolate bar. It was easy to hear Donna and James’s conversation, and thankfully it didn’t sound too bad. He was laying his flirt on a little too thick, but she didn’t seem too taken in by it. Maybe she just wanted to talk to someone who didn’t know about her situation. She could have an illusion of normalcy with him.

Still, just to be sure, he stayed in the lobby until she went back upstairs. He made sure she got safely back into her room and felt accomplished with himself. Day one, complete success.

***

The next morning, he had breakfast with Maddox and Donna at the small restaurant that was part of the hotel. Most of the tables were empty and the selection of food was minimal. All they got was slices of bread, cheese and sausage and a choice of tea, coffee or juice.

He took note of the other guests present. There was an elderly couple seated by the windows, talking to each other in German. Both were wearing hiking boots, so Zenigata guessed they had come here to see the mountains. He doubted they’d give him anything to worry about, but he’d have to be sure.

In the farthest corner, a young man was having breakfast alone. He was a tall, toothpicky kind of fellow with clothes that seemed a size too big for him. His hair was a sandy brown, and he had round spectacles on his long nose. He was busy reading a book of some kind and remembered only occasionally to take a bite out of his sandwich.

“Who’s that?” Zenigata asked in a low voice.

“I don’t know. He goes out early in the morning and comes back late in the evening,” Maddox said.

“I can go and find out,” Donna suggested. She was on her feet before Zenigata had the chance to tell her it was a bad idea. Stunned, he watched her walk over to the man’s table and invite herself over.

“Should we let her do that?” he asked.

Maddox took a sip of her coffee. “She’s in plain sight. It’ll be suspicious if we treat her like she’s five.”

“Last night, she was down talking to the guy at the reception.”

“Oh? I’ll talk to her about that. I don’t think she really gets what kind of danger she’s in.”

Their food was being served by a middle-aged local woman who helped around at the hotel when it wasn’t winter season. She chatted about her life with a thick accent and gave them recommendations on what paths to choose if they went hiking. There wasn’t much to do without snow, Zenigata gathered, but apparently there was a museum of local history. It was only open a few hours a day, so they’d have to plan carefully.

“This is not a very interesting place, is it?” he said to Maddox.

“No. That’s why we chose it.”

“I guess the only noteworthy thing that has happened here lately is the body that came down the mountain.”

“Oh, you know about that?”

“Someone told me on the train.”

Maddox chuckled. “That just proves how little happens here if people are still talking about it after a month it happened.”

“Did they ever release any more information about the guy?”

“Not that I know of, but I haven’t been following the news. Why does it interest you? Is it a cop thing?”

Zenigata rubbed his nose, not sure if he was supposed to feel embarrassed or flattered. “I guess I just don’t like having an unidentified body around. Where did they take him, by the way?”

“I haven’t got the faintest idea. Can we talk about something other than dead people?” Her voice growing louder, Maddox reached over the table to stroke Zenigata’s hand that was holding his cup. He yelped and spilled his coffee, thankfully missing her fingers that she quickly pulled back.

“Sorry!” Zenigata said. He watched the stain spread in the white tablecloth. He was never going to get used to this fake relationship angle. He wondered if he’d be this jittery if he was having breakfast with -

“It’s alright. You can make it up to me later.”

“I’ll do my best,” he muttered. He turned his eyes back to Donna, who seemed to be having much more luck. She had gotten the young man to talk excitedly about some kind of a plant. His English was excellent with barely a hint of a foreign accent that Zenigata couldn’t place.

Later, when they were returning to their rooms, he asked Donna about the man.

“He’s Anton Falk. From Sweden, I guess. He’s here because he wants to find some rare flower.”

“Oh? What flower?”

“No idea. He was being all secretive and didn’t even let me take a look at his book.” She scrunched up her nose as she thought of something. “Not that it’d do me any good. I don’t understand any Swedish.”

Zenigata decided to talk to the man later. He sounded like an oddball, so his story was probably true. Any assassin would try not to stand out. Out of his two potential suspects, the guy from the reception was higher on his list.

He’d seen five names in the guestbook, which meant there were two more people he hadn’t met. Both names had been female and English. He hoped they’d turn out to be normal tourists. There were too many people around to keep a constant eye on, especially since Maddox didn’t seem very worried about Donna’s safety.

“What are we going to do today?” he asked.

“I have some business to take care of, so I’ll be taking a train to Kreuzfeld. You two stay here. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Zenigata wondered what she could possibly have to do in the city when they were here to protect the witness. But since he didn’t have all the details, there could be something going on in the background that was just as important. He felt torn. He was used to being in control of the case and knowing everything there was to know, and he was sure he could have done a better job of keeping Donna safe if Maddox trusted him with all the information. It was hard to fall back into following orders and letting someone else handle all the responsibility.

Then again, he thought guiltily, he’d given up chasing Lupin and let everyone down. What right did he have to expect anything? He should just keep his head down and do what he was told. 

“Certainly! I’ll make sure nothing gets to her, not even a mosquito!” he promised.

They went to watch Maddox get on the train. Zenigata waved at her, and she blew a kiss at him before she stepped inside. It made him feel hot enough that he took off his trenchcoat and folded it over his arm, but it wasn’t a happy kind of warmth. He was worried there’d be huge sweat stains if he lifted his arms.

“You look so out of place. Anyone who takes one look at you can tell you aren’t here on holiday,” Donna said.

“I didn’t know I’d be coming to a place like this. I thought it’d be bigger.”

“We should have gone with her. I could have taken you shopping for something more suitable.”

Zenigata doubted she wanted to help. She probably just wanted to get out of the half-dead village for a while.

“That’d be dangerous,” he said. “This place might be boring, but it’s safe. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. Let’s throw a party when this is all over.”

“That sounds even more boring. Aren’t you old enough to be my grandfather or something?”

“I’m not _that_ old,” Zenigata muttered without much heart. No matter where in the world he travelled, women always made fun of him.

He didn’t want Donna to stay in open spaces for too long, so he took her back to the hotel and told her to stay in her room, away from the balcony. There were old paperbacks in the lobby for guests to read, and he brought her an armful so that she’d have something to do. She wrinkled her nose at the romance novels but accepted the murder mystery that he’d actually brought for himself.

Oh, well, he thought, not making a fuss. Maybe he’d enjoy In His Stable Arms or Prurient Nights just fine.

Maddox didn’t come back for lunch. They went down to eat at the hotel’s restaurant. The German couple or the Swedish flower-enthusiast weren’t present, but the two women he hadn’t seen yet arrived a little after them. They were either travelling together, or they’d made friends after arriving since they headed to the same table, talking the whole time.

Zenigata tried to come up with a good reason to talk to them, but he guessed that if he did it out of nowhere, it’d make him look like a two-timing flirt since Maddox wasn’t in town. So he just stole occasional glances in their direction and tried to guess something about them. They were both around his age, loud, and spent more time talking about their food than eating it.

It was late evening when Maddox returned. She’d bought apricot pastries for them, which Zenigata thought was a nice gesture.

“Did you get your business taken care of?” he asked before biting into his treat.

“Yeah, but I might have to go back later.” Maddox took a long glance at the hunk on the cover of the romance novel he was reading. She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded newspaper. “Maybe you’d prefer this.”

Zenigata let out a grateful sound and took it. Curious. Not only was it in French, but it was a Parisian newspaper. He hadn’t known they got any this far from the border.

He almost choked on his pastry when he saw one of the headlines on the front page.

_LUPIN ANNOUNCES CRIME - THE MUSÉE DE L’ORANGERIE UNDER THREAT_

“What?” he bellowed and jumped to his feet. The nerve of him! Was he really arrogant enough to make a crime like that public? Did he not realize he couldn’t succeed? The security would be strengthened beyond imagination. He’d be caught this time, no doubt about it.

He was already calculating if he’d make it back to Paris in time if he took the train the following morning, but then he remembered that this didn’t concern him. Slowly, he sank back on his chair, clutching the newspaper in his hands. The pressing need to go and see Lupin didn’t get any easier to bear no matter how he tried to rationalize the situation.

I don’t belong there, he thought. That young Landheer would be the one to arrest him.

“Is something wrong?” Maddox asked.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just some surprising news, but it has nothing to do with me.” He wondered if she knew who he really was. She had to have read the newspaper, but she wasn’t asking him about Lupin.

“You sure? You look a little pale.”

Zenigata laughed nervously and got on his feet. “I think I’ll head to my room for the night. It’s been a long day for you, and I’m sure you want to get to bed.”

Once back in his room, he immediately went to open the balcony door to let some fresh air in. He drew his lungs full like he’d just been drowning and put his hands on his face. Maddox had said he was pale, but he felt like he was burning up from the inside.

He walked to his bed where he’d tossed the newspaper and began reading the article again. It was much more thorough than Lupin’s typical advance notices. Time, place and the target were nothing unusual, but that wasn’t all. There was a picture of the note he’d sent to the newspaper, demanding that Zenigata should be there if he wasn’t a complete coward and too old to do his job.

He’s like a child who had his favorite toy taken away, Zenigata thought. Lupin was taunting him and trying to lure him back, just to prove to them both that he could make him dance to his tune. And for years, he’d done exactly that. When Lupin had said he’d steal something, Zenigata had dropped everything and been there until one day he no longer had anything left to give up. Nothing but Lupin, and now he’d given him up, too.

And yet he couldn’t find it in him to hate him. He almost wished he could because that had to feel better than the constant ache of knowing he was little more than a joke to the man who’d been his life for so long.

At least he’s thinking about me, he mused with some satisfaction. It was bothering Lupin that he’d left. Knowing that he wasn’t the only one who had a hard time adjusting made his decision a little easier to bear.

***

The museum looked deserted. It was well past midnight and it had rained all day, so the sky was devoid of even a speck of light. There was enough wind soughing in the trees around the building to make their steps silent as they neared the building, dressed in black from head to toe.

It was all a delusion, Lupin knew. The note he’d sent to both the biggest newspaper in Paris and the ICPO was a guarantee that security was stronger than ever. They were just letting them walk into their net.

The others didn’t know. He hadn’t told them he was hoping to finally lure Zenigata back to where he belonged. If he had, he was sure they wouldn’t have agreed to the job. But he’d make it up to them. As soon as Zenigata was back, he’d treat his gang to whatever they asked of him.

He and Fujiko would break into the building. Goemon would hide outside as back-up. Jigen was in a car a few streets away, ready to pick them up.

Lupin touched Fujiko’s arm to give her the signal to move. They’d discussed the plan down to the very last detail so they wouldn’t have to talk during it. Earlier that day, when he and Goemon had visited the museum, Lupin had planted a device on the alarm that’d kill it for the fifteen minutes they needed to get in, grab the painting, and get back out. After that, the alarm could ring all it wanted and lure all the cops inside the museum. Goemon would then cut one of the pillars by the entrance and lock them inside.

And sometime during all that, he was hoping to hear a familiar voice call out his name.

He’d checked the flight information to make sure Zenigata hadn’t left the country, at least by plane. His name hadn’t been on the passenger lists of any airlines, so the odds that he was still in France were in his favor.

They scaled the wall and began to work on one of the skylights. Lupin held the glass with suction cups as Fujiko cut it, then lifted it carefully so it wouldn’t fall and shatter on the floor. He glanced at his watch and showed his fingers to Fujiko. Five seconds until the alarm went dead.

As soon as the time was right, he tossed a rope down to the museum. They were on the floor a moment later, then down the stairs to the correct exhibition room. The painting they needed was all around unimpressive, and Lupin almost felt a little regretful that they’d come here for it. They should have taken Monet’s Water Lilies instead.

Here we go, he thought when they found the correct painting. Dragging out the whole thing would be tough, so he already had a toolkit out for taking apart the frame. They both had swift fingers, so they could do it in no time.

Only, he didn’t even get to touch the painting to pull it down when all the lights suddenly turned on.

“Lupin! Stop right there!”

He didn’t have to turn around to know that he’d failed. It wasn’t Zenigata. It was that greenhorn who had no right to be after him.

“What brings you here, inspector in name only?” he asked.

“That’s what I should be asking you,” Fujiko whispered into his ear, voice low with fury. “How did the police know we’d be here?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Lupin put his hands on his hips and turned slowly around to see Landheer and a small army of officers at the entrance to the room. They’d been hiding in the darkness of the other exhibitions, waiting for them. It was such a simple trap, and Lupin had invited him to set it. He’d planned to walk right into it when he’d thought he’d be facing Zenigata.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“Who?”

How dare he even ask?

“Inspector Zenigata! What did you bastards do to him?”

The surprise on Landheer’s face was so open it had to be genuine. Whatever weird conspiracy the ICPO was involved in, he at least didn’t know a thing. And that meant there was nothing more Lupin wanted from him.

“Let’s get out of here, Fujiko.”

“How? There are no windows, and there are at least twenty guys blocking the exit.”

“All we have to do is avoid capture for a few more minutes. Let’s keep him distracted.”

Fujiko made an annoyed click with her tongue, and Lupin knew he’d get some harsh words from her once they were back in the hideout. But for now, he could count on her being professional and knowing what came first.

“Too bad for you, but the painting is long out of this museum. This one here is just a fake,” she said to Landheer.

“What? That’s impossible. Nobody has been here before you!”

“That’s what you think,” Lupin said.

“Well, but… If the painting is gone, why are you here?”

“That’s because -”

“Actually, never mind! It doesn’t matter! You can tell me after we’ve taken you in!”

Following Landheer’s words, the officers charged at them, like it was a competition to see who’d be the first to grab a handful. Lupin took a step back and kicked the painting with his heel to send it flying off the wall. It was enough to stop the men long enough for a few of them to catch it, as Lupin had hoped. He’d happily steal art but not destroy it.

Then, the fifteen minutes he’d input into his device were over. The alarm was silent, so nobody else noticed, but Lupin knew what was going to happen. He grabbed Fujiko’s arm and pulled her against the wall. Only a few moments later, a round chunk of the ceiling fell down, and Goemon peered into the room.

“What’s wrong? You were supposed to leave before the time limit.”

“Goemon! Perfect timing! Things turned a little sour. Can you give us a hand?” Before he’d finished talking, Lupin had put his hands down for Fujiko to use them as a springboard. He gave her a push to send her up where Goemon barely reacted in time to catch her and help her climb up.

Lupin was quick to follow, and Goemon and Fujiko caught his arms to pull him up. A few of the more fast-thinking officers grabbed his legs and tried to drag him back down, but Lupin was good at wriggling and shook them off.

They ran out of the museum, Goemon taking a brief pause to block the exit by making the pillar collapse, as they’d originally planned. Jigen had already started the car when they reached it. Lupin would have never admitted it, but he felt a pang of relief at how Fujiko took the front seat. It’d get ugly soon, and he’d rather sit in the back with Goemon through it.

“You’re late,” Jigen said as he turned the steering wheel and got them into a larger street, nearly empty in the middle of the night. “Did you get -”

“Honestly, Lupin! What happened back there?” Fujiko asked, pulled off the black mask that’d kept her hair in check, and threw it at Lupin’s face.

“Calm down, Fuji-cakes! I can explain everything!”

“How did the cops know we’d be there?”

“Well...”

“No, let me guess. You sent them a note because you were hoping Zenigata would show up. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“So, we didn’t get the painting?” Jigen asked.

“Of course we didn’t get the painting!” Fujiko snapped.

“Don’t yell at me! You’re the ones who screwed up!”

“No, it’s all on him! He sent a notice to the ICPO!”

“Come on, Fujiko! You never used to get mad about that. I do that all the time.”

She gave him a glare that made him wonder if it would have been better to walk back to the hideout.

“I promised my client he’d get that painting, and now I have to call him and apologize. He won’t care whose fault this is. It’ll be my reputation on the line. If you want to play games with Zenigata, be my guest, but don’t drag me into it!”

Lupin sank deeper into his seat. She had a point. The job had been her idea. He’d agreed to help in exchange for some of the profit, but he’d done it half out of the desire to get a chance to lure Zenigata from hiding. And it hadn’t worked. He hadn’t been there. If he was in France, there was no way he hadn’t seen that newspaper, or been informed by his colleagues. Yet, he hadn’t come.

The disappointment of that was enough to turn some of his guilt into anger. Not at her, or the others, but the person he really wanted to lash out at wasn’t there.

“Isn’t it someone else in this car who’s usually the one to pull selfish stunts that bite everyone in the ass?” he asked.

An icy silence fell over them. Lupin leaned his chin on his hand and stared out the window into the dark streets. He was waiting for anyone to say something. Even Jigen kept quiet, and Lupin realized how much it annoyed him that he chose _this_ moment not to make a nasty comment about Fujiko.

Immediately afterwards, he felt like shit. None of this was her fault.

“Look, Fujiko, I’m -”

She turned on the radio, loud enough to drown out the rest of his words.

The car ride to the hideout took almost an hour as they wanted to make sure they weren’t being followed. They didn’t speak much during it. Fujiko asked Jigen for a cigarette, which he gave her after doing his share of grumbling about how it had better not turn into a habit because he knew she’d never pay him back. Goemon pretended to be asleep.

It didn’t get much better once they reached their apartment. Fujiko took the phone into her room to do damage control with her client. Lupin sat down at the kitchen table and wondered what he could do to make it up to her. If he waited for too long, the chance to apologize would slip through his fingers.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Jigen asked, his voice a low growl. He stood leaning on the sink, both hands grabbing the edge, and though Lupin couldn’t see his glare from under his hat, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being cooked under his collar. Having Jigen mad at him, too, didn’t improve his odds of fixing things any time soon.

“I thought he’d come,” he said.

“He didn’t come last time. What made you think this’d be different?”

“I don’t know! Maybe he couldn’t make it last time. Or maybe he was still mad at me. But I was sure everything would be back to normal now.”

Jigen said nothing as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He put one between his lips and lit it with a quick flip of his fingers.

“Why’s Zenigata mad at you?”

Right, he hadn’t told the others what had happened in that hotel room. It had been too embarrassing, too private. He didn’t want them to know that he’d messed up like that and hurt Zenigata’s feelings. He’d fix that alone. He was sure Zenigata didn’t want him blabbing how he’d cried to the others.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Because he can’t catch me?”

“Tch. Not telling, then. Just like you didn’t tell us that you were planning to botch the job.”

“I didn’t plan that! I’ve sent a billion advance notices before, and it was never a problem!”

“It was never a problem because the job was still your number one priority! Was this whole thing just an attempt to see Zenigata? What the hell is wrong with you?” Jigen took the cigarette from his mouth and glared at it. “And look, I’m not mad that you sent that note. I said I’d help you figure out what’s up with him. But I’m mad that you didn’t tell anyone you were going to do that. I don’t like being yanked around like an idiot. Just what is it that you’re trying to do?”

He wanted Zenigata to come back. He wanted to forget about this murky ache in his gut that felt like he’d been tossed aside because he was no longer the most important thing in Zenigata’s life. He’d chosen something else over him and hadn’t even bothered to tell him what or why. Lupin couldn’t accept that. Even if he was still the star of the show, what did it matter if there was no adversary to share the stage?

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Jigen snapped. “Are you in love with him or something? Because if you are, just say so, and I’ll only be half as mad as right now!”

“What? No! Of course not! What the hell, Jigen? This is Pops we’re talking about!”

Jigen made an ugly grimace and tossed his cigarette into the sink. That he had the nerve to suggest something like that made Lupin momentarily forget how guilty he’d been feeling just a moment ago. If he had to make a list of men he’d like to date, some pitiful, aging cop wouldn’t be anywhere near it.

There was the sound of a door opening, and soon Fujiko joined them in the kitchen.

“How did it go?” Lupin asked.

“You owe me so much right now you can’t even imagine. But I have some good news. I talked to my information source and she said someone just sold her something hot on Zenigata. He’s working on an important case, but if we want to know more, it’ll cost. If you foot the bill, I’ll arrange everything.”

“Sounds good,” Jigen agreed. “We can finally put this damn mess behind us.”

“So, he’s not in trouble?” Lupin asked. He should have been glad, but an icy feeling was spreading in his chest.

“No, he’s doing fine.”

“Then I don’t need to hear more.”

Fujiko and Jigen looked at him like he was crazy. 

“What? I thought you wanted to contact him? Isn’t that the whole reason behind the circus tonight?” Jigen said.

Yeah, but Lupin wanted Zenigata to come to him. That was how things worked. Zenigata chased _him._ The only time when he sought him out was when he had to save him, or when he had a use for him. Nobody messed with his inspector and got away with it, except him. But if Zenigata no longer felt that passion that had kept him fighting for years, even after countless failures and humiliations, what was the point? He’d look pathetic if he ran after him like a lost puppy, whining for attention.

“Never mind. You wouldn’t get it,” he said. He’d rather see Zenigata in trouble than accept that he’d abandoned him. That was something he couldn’t admit to anyone.

“You’re damn right!” Jigen slammed a hand on the sink hard enough to make the pile of dirty dishes on it clatter. “I don’t get it, and I don’t care anymore. Hit me up when you’re ready to take work seriously again.” With that, he marched out of the kitchen so that Fujiko had to jump aside to let him pass. They both heard the slam of the front door.

“Is that what you wanted?” Fujiko asked.

“I’ll talk to him when he comes back.”

“Good luck. But I agree with him for once. You’re being an idiot. We could find out what’s going on with Zenigata right now if -”

“That isn’t the problem!”

“And I guess you won’t enlighten me what the real issue is? No? Okay, then I’m done, too. I promised my client I’d make up for what happened tonight, and I need to start figuring out what’s good enough. Doesn’t look like I can expect a lot of help from you.” Fujiko waited a moment to give him a chance to change his mind, and he knew he should have taken it, but the words were stubbornly stuck inside him.

“Oh, and unlike Jigen, I won’t be back in the morning. See you,” she said from the door.

After the angry click of Fujiko’s shoes faded in the hallway, the apartment was so silent it made Lupin sick. He slumped against the table, head in his hands, and knew that he had made a mistake. Again.

He looked up when the tap was suddenly turned on. Goemon was pouring water into a kettle. Lupin hadn’t heard him walk in.

“I guess you’re mad at me, too,” Lupin said.

“I’m beyond furious. Your selfishness has driven away our friends. You’re hardly a man worth following right now.”

“Then why aren’t you leaving?” Everyone else had, he thought sulkily. Jigen would be back for sure, and he’d smooth things over with the best bottle of whiskey money could buy. He would run into Fujiko again, and some time apart always cooled off their squabbles. But it wasn’t either of them that he was thinking about. Unlike them, Zenigata wouldn’t be coming back.

Goemon put the kettle on the stove and began to look for tea in the cupboard.

“I feel that a man who is as lost as you shouldn’t be left to wander alone,” he said.

Lupin wanted to laugh and point out that he was being too pitiful to deserve such serene words, but the sounds Goemon was making in the kitchen were too much of a comfort. He let his forehead fall on the table and just listened. He didn’t want to drive him away, too.


	7. Chapter 7

Jigen’s footsteps made a lonely sound against the wet pavement as he hurried down the street, not caring where he was going as long as it took him away from Lupin. Nobody else in the world could make his temper flare so that he felt like he’d choke on his own fury. Not even Fujiko, but that was just because he expected Lupin to treat him better. They trusted each other with their lives. Why couldn’t Lupin trust him with whatever bullshit this was, too?

His question about whether he was in love with Zenigata had been a heat of the moment thing that’d just slipped out, but now that he thought back to it, he realized he wouldn’t have been surprised to get a yes. If not love, then at least something more than anyone was supposed to feel for someone whose purpose in life was to put you behind bars for good.

He stopped to light a cigarette, hands shaking. Lupin’s behavior reminded him of some of guys he’d known, who hadn’t wanted to admit to themselves what they longed for. It was never fun to see someone wade through that, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to do it again. He’d seen Lupin make out with men once or twice and had to listen to his detailed accounts of what had happened after, so he knew it wasn’t complete denial. Maybe Lupin just didn’t know how to make it last with another man.

But he never stayed with his women for long, either. If this was what Jigen’s gut was telling him, maybe the real problem was that Lupin didn’t know what to do with himself when he wanted something he couldn’t just take. Zenigata was someone he could never have.

He rubbed his face with the hand that wasn’t holding a cigarette. He needed a drink, but no place was open at this hour. Maybe he’d find a dingy motel where to get some sleep and start his day with scotch for breakfast. Or lunch, depending on when he felt like getting up.

But first he had to make sure of something. The street was following the river, and Jigen took a set of stairs down to the path running by the water to get away from plain sight. Not long after, a car passed him. Jigen pressed his back against the wet stone wall to disappear into the shadows. The car had been tailing him too long for it to be unintentional.

He made an unhappy face as he heard the car stop and the sound of multiple doors being opened and then banged shut. Great. He wasn’t in the mood for this, especially when he had no idea what he’d done to earn the spectacle. He hadn’t gotten into any trouble during their time in France. There was a long list of enemies in his past to choose from, but why now, and why here?

Footsteps got closer, but strangely enough he could hear only one set. Had the other men stayed by the car? He reached back to brush his fingers against his Magnum for some resolve. He didn’t want a shoot-out in the middle of Paris, but right now it looked like the other option was to jump into the river. And he’d just gotten his jacket back from the dry-cleaner’s. 

“We didn’t come here to fight. The boss just wants to talk.”

Ha, like he was dumb enough to fall for that. His first thought was that these people had to be complete amateurs if they thought they could lure him out that way. But they’d known where to find him, which could only mean they knew where he and the others were staying. He wondered which one of them had been careless enough to be seen.

The guy’s English carried a familiar rhythm he hadn’t heard in years. Someone from home was likely trouble, but he appreciated the nostalgia. If he got lucky, perhaps he’d get to tie up some loose ends that were long overdue.

There was another set of footsteps against the street, brisk and sharp. Jigen pulled out his gun. Two opponents wasn’t so bad, but any more and he’d start feeling cornered.

“Boss, are you sure -”

Someone snapped his fingers, and the first guy retreated back to the car without a word.

“I know you’re in there. It’s not like you to to run away. Come and say hello to my face, Jigen.”

The realization that he recognized that voice made Jigen careless enough that he peeked over the stone wall, offering the enemy the chance to blow off his hat, if not his head. But it was a voice that didn’t come with bad memories, only surprise.

“Joseph? What are you doing in Paris?”

It was years since he’d last seen or heard from Joseph Cavagna, and time could eat its way through any kind of camaraderie. Jigen put his gun back but kept his hand close as he walked up the stairs to get back to the street.

The scene was more or less what he’d expected. There was an expensive, black car with two men in expensive, black suits standing by it. Joseph looked older than he remembered with new lines on his face, a few too many for someone in his thirties. But the upbeat smile was the same. He was standing in the middle of the street, hands on his hips like he had no care in the world. By now, he had to have made it pretty high in the business, but if he still smiled like that, it couldn’t have gotten too much under his skin. That could mean either something reassuring or terrifying.

“Came to look for you, obviously.”

“And is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I’ll pay for the drinks.”

Hell, Jigen thought. He didn’t know if Joseph was here to shoot his head off or not, but he’d take the risk if it meant there was decent booze before that. The stunt that Lupin had pulled on them was still smoldering in his gut and he wanted to put it out before he went back.

“You know a place that’s open this time of the night?”

“Hotel rooms have no opening hours.”

“I’d rather go somewhere a little more public.”

“Makes no difference in the middle of the night. Relax. I didn’t come to see you all the way on the other side of the world just to kill you.”

“I doubt it’s just to catch up, either,” Jigen said, but he’d already made up his mind. Joseph had no reason to kill him. He’d worked for his uncle for only a while, but they’d parted on good terms. He’d never gotten involved with his enemies. He knew he hadn’t sunk so low that he’d have to send his nephew to do hit jobs.

The only indication that there was something going on was how the line of Joseph’s smile climbed higher on his face. For a while, he reminded Jigen of Lupin, but it passed quickly. He hoped he wouldn’t have to slam doors and march away in anger for the second time in one night.

The car ride to the hotel was silent. They didn’t ask Jigen to give up his gun, which eased his lingering worries. It was a while since he’d last been in a car full of people he didn’t know, and he couldn’t help but think back to the return trip from the museum a couple of hours ago. As stifling as that had been, he’d felt safe. He wondered just when he’d gotten so comfortable with the others that he’d forgotten that for most of his life, he’d always had to distrust everyone around him.

“Leave us,” Joseph said to his goons when they arrived at the hotel. It was the kind of fancy place that Jigen had been to a couple of times as someone’s bodyguard, but never as a guest. The suite was big enough to house a family.

“What do you want?” he asked. “It had better be worth my time. I’ve had a long night, so I’m cranky.”

Joseph walked over to the minibar and poured whisky into two glasses. “Unless you’ve become a completely different man, this should calm your nerves.” He gave one of the glasses to Jigen and gulped his down first, maybe to show him it was safe. It was more considerate and subtler than Jigen would have expected of him. Guess he wasn’t just a spoiled brat anymore.

The whisky was good and burned pleasantly as it went down his throat. Jigen let himself sink into the armchair and had to remind himself that he hadn’t come here to sleep.

“I’d like you to do something for me,” Joseph said. 

Jigen knew right away what it was. There was only one thing he was really known for, even after years.

“And you travelled to the other side of the world to ask me? What happened to all the competent guys back home?”

“There aren’t a lot of people I can come to with this request.”

“Yeah?” Jigen finished his drink and put the glass aside. “What makes me that special?”

“You didn’t tell my uncle when you found me making out with one of the delivery guys.”

Jigen sat up a little straighter and began to fish for a cigarette. Damn, what pocket had he put them in?

“That was years ago. I’m not sure where this is going,” he said.

“I want you to kill a man for me. I need it to be someone who won’t use it against me if he talks before he dies. There’s nobody else I can ask.”

Coming here had been a bad idea, Jigen decided. He should apologize to Lupin when he got back to the hideout because his screw-up with the advance notice was nothing compared to the ugly mess Jigen had just walked into.

“I don’t really do that kind of thing anymore,” he said.

“Because of your new partners?”

“Because I’m tired of it.” 

Jigen was sure Lupin wouldn’t get mad if he still killed people for money, but he’d feel like he’d let him down. It didn’t fit into Lupin’s romantic and roguish life. Even Goemon no longer spoke with pride of his old master’s teachings and how he’d been raised as a killer. None of them had clean hands, but it was different to kill an enemy than someone who didn’t even know you existed until someone else picked you for the job. And he was sick of it, had already been when Lupin had tugged at his sleeve to tell him to get out of that world. No promises had ever been made, but it’d feel like he was taking a step away from the others if he did this.

“At least hear me out before you say no. I’m not asking you to slaughter an innocent guy.”

“The more I hear about this, the harder it’ll be to walk away. Take care of him yourself if you can’t trust anyone else to do it.” Jigen put his hands on his knees and was about to hoist himself up, but Joseph’s voice stopped him.

“My uncle’s dying. You know my cousins. A lot of people back home are expecting me to keep things stable and stop them from killing each other in a power struggle. I don’t have time to go on a manhunt. Someone else will have to tie up this loose end for me. The faster, the better. So, please. Listen to what I have to say.”

Jigen sighed and pulled his hat down, hating himself because he knew he couldn’t walk out after words like that got thrown at him. Old man Cavagna had been fair, as far as mob bosses went, and always looked out for the people under him. He hadn’t thought about him in years, but it was hard not to feel like he owed something to him and by extension, to his nephew.

“Fine, tell me. But I’m not going to kill some guy if the worst thing he did was break your heart.”

The laugh that left Joseph’s throat was a little too hollow to be genuine. He took a photo from his pocket and handed it to Jigen. There was a young man on it, maybe in his twenties, with such joy radiating from his smile that Jigen couldn’t imagine why he’d ever gotten involved with someone in their line of work. He had brown hair and eyes, and plain features that didn’t make him a catch but which would help him disappear in a crowd.

“That’s Roy Miller. He was with me for about half a year. The kind of guy you just can’t say no to. Had me completely wrapped around his finger. I would have done _anything_ for him. Then one day, he was gone, and so was everything in my safe. He’d played me the whole time, the bastard.”

Jigen made an unimpressed face and put the photo on the table by his chair. “This is too dumb for me.”

“Wait! It’s not just money he took. There were important documents in my safe. I need those back.”

“What kind of documents?”

“Contracts and other things that can’t end up in the wrong hands. My uncle’s given me a lot of responsibility over the past few years. Even if this doesn’t destroy the family, it’ll destroy me.”

“Who was he working for?” If the guy was a cop, Jigen would turn down the job. He might not have liked them, but he didn’t need that kind of trouble in his life. And with Lupin being as irrational as he was right now, he just might draw the wrong conclusions from it and think he wouldn’t have a problem offing Zenigata if things ever got out of hand.

“We’d already know if the documents had been handed over to our enemies or the police. I don’t know what he’s doing, but he hasn’t talked to anyone yet.”

“You think he’s going to blackmail you?”

Joseph refilled his glass and swallowed a full mouthful of whisky, then coughed against the back of his hand.

“Worse. For now, I’m sure he’s just hiding until the dust settles. But he knows that my cousins will take any excuse to get rid of me after my uncle dies. If he goes to them with what he has and they can make it look like I’m incompetent and careless and… depraved, it’ll be my end.”

Jigen said nothing. A heavy feeling of resentment was pressing at his throat and bringing back memories he’d rather not think about. There’d been a time when he hadn’t been so sure of himself and when getting close to anyone had felt like putting his whole life on that person’s palm. It was hard not to grow bitter in a world like that, and he found himself wanting to accept this job just to take down a guy who’d use such unfairness as a weapon.

“I don’t know if I have time to come to the States right now, but -” he said, but Joseph waved at him to stop.

“You won’t have to. That’s another reason I’m asking you to do this. We caught one of his friends and roughened him up until he talked. He’s in a little village in Switzerland, so it’s just a hop over the border.”

“Switzerland? Why there?”

“I don’t know. I guess he’s putting extra effort into trying to disappear. I wouldn’t have even though to look for him in Europe. So, what do you say? It’ll be a quick job. I’ll pay you whatever you charge these days.”

Jigen couldn’t help but laugh. He got paid in whisky, sweet promises of loot, and the occasional gem when they didn’t lose everything they stole. It would have been depressing to look at what had happened to his career if he hadn’t been happier than ever before in his life.

“I guess I owe it to your uncle to look into this,” he said with a resigned sigh. The old man had saved his ass once when he’d made a mistake that’d almost cost him his life. He’d paid him back, but he liked to think of himself as the kind of guy who didn’t turn his back on people who’d helped him before. 

At least, that was an excuse that’d let him keep this from becoming too personal. No matter how much he sympathized with Joseph’s situation, he couldn’t let that guide his actions.

Joseph’s shoulders relaxed visibly. “Thank you. That’s one less thing for me to worry about.”

“Is there anything more I should know about this guy?”

“He’s not dangerous, so he won’t put up much of a fight. But you have to find him first. He’s got some talent with disguises and speaks at least three languages, so that photo I gave you won’t do you any good.”

“I guess it would have been too easy otherwise,” Jigen said. He wasn’t the best at figuring out disguises, but working with Lupin had made him better at it. This shouldn’t take too long.

“And one more thing,” Joseph said. “I know you’re in France with your partners, but keep them out of this, alright?”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Jigen said gruffly. Just because he hadn’t done this in a while didn’t mean he’d forgotten the basics of the job. He’d tell the others he had something to take care of and would come back once it was finished. 

And if there was any luck in the world left for him, maybe Lupin would be back to normal by then.

***

Zenigata got up so early that breakfast wasn’t being served yet. After making sure Maddox and Donna were fine, he made his way downstairs and out the door. It was pleasantly cool for a summer morning, mist still lingering around the roofs. Sunlight was peeking from behind the mountains. He drew his lungs full and decided to make rounds around the hotel to get to know the area.

It was so silent that he worried his footsteps would wake up everyone in the village. Or attract ghosts since it was likely there weren’t all that many people around. He glanced warily at the deserted houses on both sides of the street. If not ghosts, then assassins. The empty windows were an excellent place for a killer to strike from. He should convince Maddox that they couldn’t let Donna out of the hotel, no matter how much she complained.

Just as he was finished with this thought, he heard footsteps that weren’t his. He froze, heart in his throat, and took a wild look around to find a place to hide. There was no reason for anyone to be out at this hour when nothing was open, the train wouldn’t come until a few more hours, and there was nothing to do.

There was nowhere for him to go, except behind a bench that was standing by one of the houses. It wouldn’t hide him if someone looked right at him, but maybe if he was completely still… Quickly, he dashed behind the bench and crouched down to make himself as small as possible. His trench coat was the same color as the bench, so he hoped it’d help.

The footsteps got closer, and he realized there was more than one person. He stole a peek from over the backrest of the bench to see who were coming. To his surprise, the people who appeared from behind a corner were the two women who were staying at the hotel with them. What on earth could they be doing outside so early?

“Oh!”

The taller of the women locked eyes with him and took a startled step to her left, away from her friend. While she appeared frightened, the other woman was pursing her lips in a way that left her looking unimpressed and bored.

“Don’t be afraid, Nellie. It’s only a suspicious man.”

“That’s more than enough for me to worry.”

“I’m not a suspicious man! I’m -” Zenigata jumped to his feet, spine straight as an arrow, and realized mid-sentence that he couldn’t assure the women of his trustworthiness by telling them he was an inspector. His hand remained inside his coat, where he usually pulled out his badge, but he supposed that now he looked more like a hitman grabbing his gun.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t realize anyone would be out at this hour,” he said.

“Well, you’re out at this hour, too, so I don’t see why you think it’s so strange.”

“Erm, yes.”

The woman who was talking, the shorter one, kept measuring him with a critical eye. She was slightly on the chubby side and around his age, but he didn’t think there was anything soft or motherly about her. Her hair was an unusual shade of auburn that made him think it was dyed, and she was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and shorts, the former red and the latter green. The shoes she was wearing weren’t for hiking, so he thought it weird that she’d dress like she wanted to do exactly that, but perhaps it was a fashion statement.

“Awful trench coat,” she told him. “You’ll boil yourself to death if you wear that once the sun goes up.”

“Shh, don’t make him mad, Irene!” the other woman hissed at her. She made Zenigata think of a scarecrow with her messy, dark hair, midnight blue jacket that had seen better days, and how her legs seemed to make up most of her body.

“Oh, don’t fret. Don’t you recognize him? We had lunch with him yesterday.”

“Did we?”

“Well, we had lunch at the same time and in the same room, the very least.” The woman smiled, then, and walked over to shake Zenigata’s hand. “Nice to finally talk to you. I’m Irene Prescott, and this is my friend Helen Sudworth.”

“Everyone calls me Nellie!” 

“I’m… I’m Suehiro Fujita. Nice to meet you.”

“So, why were you hiding behind that bench, Mr. Fujita? You gave us quite a shock. Imagine how we felt when we suddenly saw a strange man lying in wait,” Irene said. That sharp look was back in her eyes, and Zenigata couldn’t decide if she was really mad at him, or just messing with him.

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I promise! I think I dropped something around here yesterday, so I was looking for it. I’m really sorry I looked suspicious!”

“It’s alright,” Irene said. “Nellie here is an amateur boxing champion, so we had no reason to be scared.”

“That was twenty years ago, though,” Nellie added.

“But what about you two? Why are you out here so early?” Zenigata asked.

“Looking for inspiration. Nothing gets the creative part of your mind working faster than a brisk walk before breakfast,” Irene said.

“Inspiration for what?”

“Oh, you don’t know us? What a shame! I write, and Nellie is a photographer. My mysteries are pretty popular.”

Zenigata couldn’t recall ever hearing the name of either of them, but he supposed it was no wonder. He didn’t have a lot of time to read, and when he did, he liked to catch up on Japanese authors. Photography he knew even less about.

“I can’t imagine there’s much inspiration to be found in a place like this. The village is almost dead this time of the year,” he said.

Irene gave him a knowing smile. “Never say that. It’s the places where you least expect anything to happen that get the most excitement. This village is perfect for a gruesome murder.”

If that was what the women had been talking about as they spotted him, no wonder they’d been startled. People who wrote for a living could get a little meddlesome, so Zenigata made a note to warn Maddox and Donna about these two. They’d have to do everything to appear perfectly normal.

“I hope not,” he muttered. If there was a murder, the likeliest victim was Donna, and he didn’t want to think about that.

“Of course, it’s not a murder I’m looking for. I just want to meet some interesting people. Quiet places like this attract all sorts of eccentrics. Just recall how you were crouching behind that bench. It’d be a great way to introduce a new character. Maybe I’ll make one out of you for my next book!”

“I’d make for a pretty dashing hero,” Zenigata said, not entirely opposed to the idea. He’d always thought that his adventures were just as exciting as those of any fictional detective. Wouldn’t it be great to read a mystery and literally see some of himself in the protagonist?

“Perhaps,” Nellie agreed, but she didn’t sound convinced.

“Not every hero has to be dashing,” Irene said diplomatically. “But I think we should be heading back to the hotel and get ready for breakfast. We’ve got take some time to talk more later, Mr. Fujita!”

He waved at the women as they returned to the hotel. The street that led down to the train station was familiar to him, so he chose another way that circled around the lake that was in the middle of the village. He passed by the museum of local history, almost missing it at first because it wasn’t as high as the houses that stood on boths sides of it. Only a little sign with the opening hours made him realize what it was.

It looked like it was only open from noon to two in the afternoon, and only upon request. Summer wasn’t busy enough to justify having staff around. No matter, Zenigata decided. Museums weren’t really his thing, unless Lupin was breaking into them.

Damn, he thought. He’d done his best to keep his thoughts from drifting away to him. He hadn’t slept well, too tormented by images of what might have happened in Paris. Had Lupin made it away with the painting? Had he been stopped? Had be been _arrested?_ Zenigata had to know. 

He dug his fingers into the wooden fence in front of the museum and fought to stop shaking. There was nothing he could do. If he got lucky, they might mention it on the radio or on TV, but he couldn’t sit around waiting all day.

Donna had told him they should go shopping. It was an absurd idea, but he knew that if he took her to town the following day, he might find a newspaper that gave him the answers he wanted. 

But no. If he ever endangered a person he was supposed to protect for such selfish reasons, it was better to hand over his badge immediately. He had a job to do. He’d listen to the radio and hope they’d mention how Lupin’s heist had gone. It was the only way to get the news in a way that wouldn’t make anyone curious about why he cared so much.

Though he might ask Maddox to bring him another newspaper if she had to go to town again.

Zenigata hurried away from the museum’s door to escape the effect thinking about Lupin had on him. He didn’t stop until he reached the shore of the lake and drew his lungs full of cool air. The surface of the water was unmoving. He felt a little better as he watched it, resisting the urge to throw a stone into the lake.

It didn’t matter what had happened at night. What difference did it make whether Lupin had escaped or been caught? None. Not to him.

He returned to the hotel as morning light began to fill the village. The Swedish botanist passed him at the door, and Zenigata greeted him with a nod of his head. He saw that Maddox and Donna were having breakfast and went to join them, hoping for a day just as uneventful as the previous.

***

Lupin woke up when he smelled bacon. That meant Jigen was back, he thought lazily as he turned over in bed and buried his face into his pillow. He didn’t want to make his body get up.

Last night, he’d tried to get Goemon to drink with him so they could both forget the disaster of a heist, but the answer he’d gotten had been one of the coldest rejections in his life. He’d been angry enough to down a few glasses of wine alone in his room, not tasting a drop and just wanting to get drunk, until he’d realized how pitiful he was being. He’d collapsed into bed and slept like a log.

His tongue felt thick and tasted like garbage. The stench of grease coming from the kitchen was making him queasy enough that he decided to get up after all. If he had to throw up, he wanted it to be somewhere other than his bed.

Jigen and Goemon were both in the kitchen as he waddled inside and took a seat by the table. The smell of meat and eggs burning on the frying pan made him gag into his hand, but he was glad that Jigen had come back.

“I thought I’d have to be the one to butter you up, but here you are, making breakfast,” he said.

“Who said it’s for you?” Jigen asked.

Goemon was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter so that he could be right by the window which he’d opened in protest to what Jigen was cooking. He was holding a bowl of tea, and though Lupin couldn’t smell what it was under the funk of Jigen’s breakfast, he grabbed the pot and poured himself some. He was sure his stomach could hold at least that.

“Is Fujiko back?” he asked.

“She didn’t even return to pick up her things,” Goemon said.

Lupin sighed through his nose. As expected, but he guessed he couldn’t blame her. Now that the disappointment and fury of Zenigata not coming after him were no longer burning in his veins, he knew he’d been a dick to her. Maybe he should go back and grab the painting she’d wanted. Then again, when she stormed out in anger like that, it was impossible to get in touch with her. She’d let him know when she’d calmed down.

“Can’t be helped. Guess it’s just the three of us for a while,” he said.

“Actually,” Jigen said and removed the frying pan from the stove, “it’s going to be just you two. Something came up.”

Lupin and Goemon both looked at him in surprise. 

“Like what?” Lupin asked.

“I picked a job when I was out. Don’t ask. I’ll be back when I’ve taken care of it.”

“You sure accepting random jobs in the middle of the night is such a good idea?”

Jigen just shoved food into his mouth. He never talked about the jobs he took outside their group, and Lupin usually didn’t stick his nose into them. But whatever he’d accepted in the streets in the darkest hours of the night couldn’t be his typical bodyguard gigs. Whatever it was, it had to be something grimy.

“I hope you aren’t doing something dumb just to stick it to me,” he said and stole a piece of bacon from Jigen’s plate. He nibbled on it experimentally to see how his stomach would react.

“Look who’s talking. Everything you’ve done lately is dumb, all because you’re obsessed with Zenigata. Get that sorted out by the time I come back.”

Harder said than done. Lupin hadn’t given Zenigata all that much thought unless he’d been right there, running after him and yelling how he was going to get him this time. There wasn’t any reason to think about him when he was in your face all the time. Now that he wasn’t just gone but had walked away from him, he found his head filled with nothing but his absence.

“I’m not obsessed,” he said.

Jigen gave him an unimpressed look, and Lupin considered lightening the mood with a joke about how he’d asked him if he was in love with Zenigata. But all words of mockery remained trapped in his throat. He didn’t want to put such a possibility out there, even to be ridiculed. Some ideas were just too dumb, and he found he didn’t want to waste any time mulling over that.

Even without his joke, he felt that the atmosphere in the kitchen had turned awkward. They kept eating in silence, not really looking at each other. But it wasn’t his fault. Jigen had chosen the worst moment to go solo adventuring. With Fujiko gone, too, just what were he and Goemon supposed to accomplish? He had to remind himself that they had every right to go as they pleased, especially after he’d ruined the heist on purpose.

Still, it stung. It was hard not to feel like everyone was getting sick of him.

“Be careful,” he said.

“Since when am I not?”

Jigen said he’d just stopped by to grab some of his things and to have something to eat. Leaving early in the morning like that probably meant he was travelling somewhere outside Paris, maybe even France. Lupin wanted to know where, but he didn’t ask. Jigen wouldn’t tell, and he didn’t want to part ways with another fight.

Like with Fujiko last night. Or when Zenigata had kicked him out of his hotel room.

“What do you think he’s up to?” he asked once Jigen had left.

Goemon kept staring out the window, maybe watching Jigen disappear down the street. “It’s no concern of mine. I trust he knows what he’s doing.”

“So do I! I’m just curious.”

“I think you have something of more importance to think about.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Zenigata.”

“Oh, please. Don’t you start this, too!”

Goemon pointed the blunt end of the Zantetsuken’s sheath at him. “What do you plan to do next? Do you still insist on catching his attention, or will you admit defeat?”

“I never give up,” Lupin said. He couldn’t walk away from this without accomplishing something. The others might be happy if he did, but he’d always know that he’d failed. At what, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t ready to accept that this was how he and Zenigata parted ways. There had to be something more. Something big to put a definite end to their rivalry, not this sad fizzling out.

“So, you’ll try again.”

Lupin tried to read Goemon’s voice to guess if he was judging him as foolish, or was annoyed he wasn’t done. But it was impossible to guess what emotion hid behind his words.

“Will you help me?” he asked. If Goemon, too, decided that he’d had enough, well… He couldn’t blame him, but it’d be disappointing.

“I’ll do anything you ask of me,” Goemon said. He finished his tea and put the bowl down. “But I have a condition.”

“What is it?”

“You must promise me that before you take action, you think about what you’ll do if the third attempt is fruitless. If Zenigata still won’t answer your call, you must know what path you want to follow. You can’t keep chasing him aimlessly like this forever.”

In other words, Goemon wouldn’t help him again if this time bore no results. Lupin didn’t want to think that the third time would be a failure, too, but it was hard to stay hopeful when Zenigata had missed two opportunities to come after him.

He’d push harder. Simple art thefts weren’t enough. He’d do his research this time and find a target that’d create such an explosion that Zenigata couldn’t ignore him. If arresting him no longer mattered to him, surely his life did. It had to. If faced with the possibility of having to relive the anguish of the helicopter crash in Paris, surely then he’d come.

“Yeah, I promise,” he said and gave Goemon his most charming smile. 

He wasn’t lying. He wouldn’t have to think about anything he didn’t want to. There wouldn’t be any need. This time, he’d make sure the stakes were so high that Zenigata would have to notice him, or forever regret that he hadn’t.


	8. Chapter 8

Zenigata had brought a radio to Maddox and Donna’s room with the excuse that they needed to know what was happening in the world beyond the village. If nothing more, they should listen to the weather forecast. He found a local radio channel that didn’t play any strange music that got on his nerves and set the volume low enough that it was nothing more than background noise.

“You're pretty clever,” Donna said. She was lying on her back on her bed and gave Zenigata an annoyed look.

“What do you mean?”

“Weather forecast so we know if we should go out? I know you don't even want to let me down to the lobby. So you picked that channel because you know we don't speak French. You can just make up what the weather is going to be like and keep me here.”

“You're paranoid,” Zenigata said, keeping his eyes on his book. “I don't need excuses to keep you inside.”

“Hmph. Tyrant!”

Zenigata wondered if she really thought that throwing a tantrum would make him budge. He didn't know her exact age, but surely she was old enough that she should have understood what was in her best interests. She could go out all she wanted once the trial was over and her life no longer in danger.

Then again, he realized, was there any guarantee that things would get better for her after the trial? Even if there was a conviction, there'd still be people with power and money out there to take revenge. If the investigation was as big as Maddox made it seem, would Donna have to change her identity and disappear in order to live in peace? Did she even know about that possibility?

He glanced at her. She had rolled over on her stomach and was reading the mystery novel he’d brought her the day before. Nothing made him think she was someone who knew the life she’d known was over. Maybe Maddox hadn’t told her that so she wouldn’t get difficult. He couldn’t agree with that. Keeping Donna in the dark when it was her life at stake brought a bad taste to his mouth.

“I met the two women from England this morning,” he said.

“Irene and Nellie? They’re weird. They never shut up and keep asking all kinds of dumb questions.”

“Like what?”

“You know, where I’m from, what I do for a living, what my family is like, all those things. It gets on my nerves because I have to remember all the details of this stupid fake identity.”

“Don’t tell them anything,” Zenigata said. It crossed his mind that pretending to be an author gave Irene the perfect excuse to stick her nose everywhere and ask people anything that crossed her mind. And a lot of people would be happy to spill their secrets if they thought it gave them a little time in the spotlight. He hid his face behind his book as he recalled his eagerness to be a model for a protagonist.

The sound of a key being turned in the lock made him look at the door. Maddox had gone downstairs to get them lunch at Zenigata’s insistence. The less time Donna spent outside, the better. Though he couldn’t deny that keeping her locked up all day long would make people suspicious. James had already seemed annoyed when Zenigata had pushed Donna past him and hadn’t let her stop for a chat. If they didn’t come up with a good story, he might suspect something creepy was happening in their room. They should probably have supper, at least, at the restaurant.

“Good book?” Maddox asked as she entered with their food.

“What? I guess.” To be honest, he hadn’t made it very far. The main character of the story was the daughter of a ruined nobleman who was forced to work as a seamstress, and so far, nothing had happened. The back cover called the book a bestseller, but he wondered if it wasn’t an exaggeration.

Zenigata turned up the volume on the radio when the current song ended and a news report started. It was local things first, like some election and an accident at a construction site. After that, sports. He was already losing hope, but then...

“Last night, the international master thief Lupin III attempted -”

Zenigata dropped his book as the familiar name hit him. He turned to stare at the radio, as if that’d somehow force it to tell him what he wanted to hear. What that was, he didn’t know until relief washed over him as the presenter said that Lupin hadn’t gotten what he’d been after but had avoided arrest.

He slumped back in his chair with a sigh. Lupin was still out there. He’d feel guilty for his treacherous thoughts later, but for now he allowed himself to be happy that someone else hadn’t put out his fire.

“Something interesting?” Maddox asked.

“Oh, no, it’s just that...” Zenigata drifted off as he realized something strange. Donna had just told him that neither she nor Maddox spoke French, and it seemed she hadn’t understood what the radio had said. If that was the case, how come she’d bought a French newspaper in town? Just for him? They’d spoken English the whole time, and he couldn’t remember if he’d ever told her he had some knowledge of French.

Or maybe she _did_ speak it but didn’t want him to know? But why would she lie to him and Donna about that? It made no sense.

“A child got lost in the mountains three towns over, but they found him,” he said. He watched both Donna and Maddox for a reaction to his lie, but they both accepted it and kept eating. Maybe he was overthinking everything.

“We need to talk about the people staying in the village. They could be hiding something,” he said as he picked up his book, set it aside and began to poke at the mashed potatoes on his plate. “Which of them arrived here after you?”

“Just Falk, the Swedish guy. He showed up two days after we had settled in.”

“Hmm. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t stick your nose everywhere. People will think you’re suspicious,” Maddox said.

“If they’re innocent, it doesn’t matter if they think I’m weird. But if someone here is after Donna, they’ll try to kill her even if I do nothing.” Zenigata glanced in Donna’s direction, worried that his words were upsetting her, but she was busy reading her book and chewing her food. He almost admired the way she didn’t care.

“True enough. It doesn’t hurt to be careful. But I doubt anyone here is after us. We were careful to leave no traces when we took up these identities and came here. The only way they’d know is if -”

“If someone betrayed you,” Zenigata guessed. “And in that case, they could have planted someone here before you even arrived.”

An annoyed line appeared briefly around Maddox’s mouth. “If that was the case, they would have already tried something. We’ve been here long enough.”

Zenigata had no good response to that. She was right. If there was a killer in the village, what were they waiting for? Maybe he was just being a busybody because he was used to hunting Lupin, and everything was always so complicated with him. Or, even worse, maybe he was trying to keep himself distracted so that he wouldn’t think about him all the time.

“I’ll still talk to Falk as soon as I get a chance,” he said. There was nothing to lose. And even if what Maddox was saying made complete sense, there was something about the village that made him nervous. It could be just Irene’s words from earlier messing with him, but he wanted to think his gut was telling him to be on alert.

“He leaves early in the morning and comes back when it’s getting dark,” Donna said.

“You know his patterns well,” Zenigata said.

“I know everyone’s patterns. What else is there to do here but watch other people? But I guess I can’t do that anymore, either, now that you’re keeping me on a leash.”

“Please don’t put it like that.”

Zenigata reviewed the list of potential suspects inside his head. He doubted any of the locals were worth suspicion, but he’d keep his eyes on James, the old German couple, Irene and Nellie, and Falk. 

“What do you think about the guy in the reception? It’s strange to find an American here,” he said.

“He’s cute, but he needs better pick-up lines. The ones he tries on me are embarrassing. He told me my eyes are like stars,” Donna said.

“That’s not the kind of information I’m after. He said he started here a few weeks ago. Why is he here at all?”

“He just finished an exchange year in Zurich. He’s going to be a doctor. He told me he wants to see another side of Switzerland before he goes back home to California, so he’s been travelling and taking on jobs here and there. A friend signed him up here for the summer.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense,” Zenigata muttered, feeling defeated. James was his number one suspect, but it looked like he wouldn’t find much dirt in his background. He was a little too young to be a hired killer, anyway.

He offered to take the dishes back to the restaurant downstairs after they were done eating, but Maddox said she wanted to stretch her legs. Zenigata didn’t argue, even though the reason he’d volunteered had been the same. He hated staying inside one room all day long just as much as Donna. He just had to act like he didn’t because he was on the job.

Zenigata held back a sigh and started reading his book again. He made it only one page further, to a scene where the seamstress bumped into a stablehand as she was wandering the grounds of the mansion where she’d been called to work. She noted that while he was covered in grime and reeked of horses and manure, his fingers were long and delicate, and his eyes sparkled with intelligence and amusement. The description reminded him of -

“I asked you a question!”

“Hm?” Zenigata looked up from his book to see Donna glaring at him. “What did you say?”

“And you’re supposed to protect me? If there was a killer here, I’d be dead before you noticed anything is off.”

“I only look like I’m not paying attention! It’s a strategy!” Zenigata insisted in embarrassment and closed his book once more. He got up and walked over to the balcony doors, then opened them even though he’d been the one to insist they should stay closed at all times. A pleasant summer breeze greeted him, and he let his eyes travel over the village. From here, he could see that the train from town was arriving.

He turned to talk to Donna over his shoulder. “What did you ask me?”

“What were you doing before you got assigned here?”

Zenigata returned inside and pulled the doors shut behind him. 

“I thought we agreed not to talk about our real lives.”

“Oh, come on! Tell me something! What kind of cases have you worked on? What’s your favorite case ever?”

“Even if we weren’t both undercover, I couldn’t talk to you about my work. Don’t ask again.”

Donna blew a strand of hair from her face in boredom. “Fine, no work. How about private? Did you have to ditch your wife and kids to be here?”

“I don’t want to talk about that, either.” Besides, his work and his private life were the same. Lupin. Lupin, Lupin and even more Lupin. It was pitiful, but he was actually having much more of a life now that he was using a fake identity. Just thinking about that made his throat feel tight.

“I… I have a sister,” he blurted out.

“Oh? What’s she like?”

Zenigata began to tell her about Kazuko and her family. He didn’t mention their names or any locations that might make identifying them possible, but just getting to talk about them made him feel better and like he had his feet on the ground. 

Why was he even in Europe, he found himself wondering. He should go home. It’d be humiliating to face everyone and admit defeat, but surely it was better than running from the truth and pretending like he still had any reason to work abroad? If he was truly determined to get over Lupin and move on, he should go back to his family who’d helped him realize the depth of his feelings for him in the first place.

Every second he kept working for the ICPO was filled with futile hope that he’d hear from Lupin, run into him by accident - that he still had some connection to him. He should go and be a policeman in Japan, accept a demotion if necessary, and live the rest of his days with Kazuko and the others. He couldn’t forget about Lupin if there was nothing else in his life to take his place.

“Is something wrong?” Donna asked, and Zenigata realized he’d been quiet for a long time.

“No, it’s just -”

That was when Maddox returned to the room with cold juice that drew Donna’s attention away from him. He was glad for it, as he realized that if he had to think about his situation any longer, he’d start tearing up.

He was more than grateful for the opportunity to escape back into his book.

***

Jigen was the only person who got off the train at the end station. There was nobody around, and he felt like he’d arrived at a ghost town. He should have prepared better, he thought as he glanced down at his dark suit. He was good at disappearing in crowds in big cities and lurking in alleys, but he’d stand out like a sore thumb in this picturesque setting.

He sighed around the unlit cigarette in his mouth when he saw that there’d be no other trains that day. No way to go back for disguises. He’d just have to make do. He peeled off his jacket and hung it over his left arm out of habit even though his gun was out of reach inside his suitcase.

He’d talked to someone on the train who’d said there was only one hotel open this time of the year. That was the best place to start looking for his target. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of getting a room at the same place as the guy he was hunting, but at least it’d make things faster and easier. If he was a guest at the hotel, nobody would think it weird that he was around.

Jigen met nobody as he walked up the street. He kept a wary eye on the windows of the surrounding houses and the little spaces and roads between them, taking note of places where a person could hide. He planned to take Miller out in private so he could get back the documents he’d stolen, but if that wasn’t possible, the village was full of spots that served his purpose - provided that Miller was careless enough to wander outside.

It was easy to find the hotel since there was only one main street in the village. A quaint little place of the type that he didn’t want to admit he actually liked. There were flowers at every window, and he imagined that the food was home-made. He was getting old.

He walked up to the door, ready to pull it open. Before he could even touch it, a hand pressed against his mouth, and someone dragged him away from the door. Instincts kicking in, he tried to shove off his assailant with his suitcase, but the person was faster than him, and he just ended up hitting his elbow against the wall. At least he could break free, and he turned around to face his attacker, swallowing pained curses. 

When he saw who it was, he no longer felt any need to hold back the profanities.

“Fujiko! What the hell are you -”

“Shh! Not so loud!” She lurched forwards and put her hand back against his mouth, but he swatted her away in anger.

“Bullcrap! Don’t surprise me like that!”

“Hey, I was just trying to stop you from walking right into Zenigata’s arms! He’s staying at this hotel. So stop yelling!”

“What!”

For a long time, all he could do was stare at Fujiko, absent-mindedly taking in the hiking clothes she was wearing and how she was carrying a large backpack. What the hell was she even doing here? Had she followed him? How could she know where he was going?

“What game are you playing?” he asked, apprehension bringing a bad taste to his mouth. If she was working with Miller, this would get ugly.

“What do you mean?”

“Why else would you be here? I don’t know how you found out that I’d be in this village, but -”

“Believe me, I’m just as unpleasantly surprised to see you here. This makes everything complicated.” Fujiko let out a long sigh and scratched her head, deep in thought. She’d tied up her hair on a short ponytail to keep it from her face. 

“Is Zenigata really here?” Jigen asked. He should focus on that. Fujiko might be trouble, but at least she wasn’t going to get him arrested.

“Yeah, I saw him on the balcony of one of the rooms. I don’t think he saw me, but we need to get out of here. We can talk elsewhere. Let’s go.”

He didn’t really have a choice. Fujiko knew more about what was going on, and he needed that information if he was hoping for any chance of finishing his job. He let her lead him away from the hotel, but she stopped only a few houses away from it.

“What are you doing?” he asked when she began to poke around the flower pots that currently had nothing growing in them, lining the front of the two-storey building.

“Looking for a key.”

“Why would there be a key here?” But just as he finished, Fujiko found what she was looking for and turned to show him a muddy key, a satisfied smile on her face.

“I knew I couldn’t stay at the hotel when I saw Zenigata, but I asked to use the phone. I called some of my contacts and managed to rent this place for a while.”

Jigen said nothing, but he pursed his lips, impressed, as he stepped inside after her. Fujiko’s resourcefulness was admirable. She couldn’t improvise and bluff her way out of trouble the way Lupin could, but she seemed to have a limitless network of people she could get help from, no matter where in the world they were.

The house was furnished sparsely with no personal belongings anywhere. Fujiko told him the owner had moved to Italy years ago but liked to rent the house to his friends. They’d have to make a trip to town the following day and get necessities if they wanted to be able to live there.

“Of course, that depends on whether I’m even letting you stay here on my dime. Did Lupin send you after me or something?” she asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have better things to do than follow you around.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Jigen didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought he’d run into anyone he knew here, so he hadn’t prepared a cover story. And Fujiko was too clever to buy something half-baked, like that he was just here for some mountain air. He didn’t want to tell her the truth, but if he lied to her, she’d get annoying and try to dig it out of him anyway.

“I’m here on a job for a friend. It’s got nothing to do with the gang, so you don’t need the details,” he said. “And there’s no money involved, so don’t stick your nose into it.”

“If it’s just you here, I have no trouble believing that. You’d do jobs for old friends free of charge if they asked,” Fujiko said, and there wasn’t enough malice in her voice for Jigen to feel defensive. She was right, besides.

“So, why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m not done interrogating you yet. Just tell me if you’re here to kill someone.”

“Do I have any other useful skills? I’m not exactly goatherd material.”

“I don’t know, with that beard, the goats just might accept you as one of their own right away. But actually, I thought you might be here to be somebody’s bodyguard. You aren’t half bad at that.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” Jigen said, feathers ruffled because he hadn’t thought of telling her he was on a bodyguard gig. He could have just picked someone in the village and shadowed them, saying a paranoid relative had hired him. Oh, well. Too late.

The smile on Fujiko’s face dropped as she went on, “Zenigata is here with two women. Is your job connected to that?”

“No, I’m looking for a man. Zenigata has nothing to do with my job. If he’s here for someone, it’s got to be you.” Jigen lifted his hat to look her in the eyes, hoping that she’d tell him what she was doing there. She was the best liar in their group, but if she was just as taken aback by their meeting as he was, maybe she didn’t have a good cover story to feed him either.

“No way. There’s something worth a lot of money in this village that I’m after, but there’s no reason it should be of interest to the ICPO.”

“A lot of money? Sounds interesting.”

“Dream on. I’m giving it to my client to apologize for the painting fiasco in Paris, and if anything remains, I need it to cover all my costs.”

“Huh. Didn’t take you for someone who apologizes to people.”

“It takes effort to keep people happy and willing to work with you.”

Jigen bit his tongue not to point out that it looked like not everyone in the world was as willing to let her walk all over them as Lupin. But Lupin did that because his relationship with Fujiko wasn’t just about work. Whether it was romantic anymore, Jigen couldn’t say and didn’t care, but they were at least friends.

He scratched his head and let out a frustrated sound. “So, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t care that you’re here to kill someone as long as it doesn’t cause me any problems. If you find who you’re looking for, can you just tail him until I’ve got what I’m after? I don’t want this village to be full of police all of a sudden.”

“I don’t know. I was hoping to get this done quickly.”

“I just need a week! Two at maximum. Come on, help me out. We can both benefit,” she said.

“How?” Jigen asked, despite himself. He was glad she wasn’t batting her eyes at him or trying any of the tricks she used on Lupin. Of course she knew they wouldn’t work, but it was still a little strange, like she was a different person from before, and he wasn’t sure how to act. Perhaps it was just that they were actually talking to each other, which didn’t happen often when the whole group was there.

“For one thing, we can offer a cover story for each other. Your guy probably has some hunch that there’s somebody after him, but if we put up a good act, he’s never going to think it’s you. And two people travelling together is a lot less suspicious than one, so I can snoop around with more ease. If I find out anything that’ll help you, I’ll let you know. I promise!”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks.”

“And what’s the guarantee that you won’t make things difficult for _me?_ What if your little treasure hunt causes a stir and scares my target away? Zenigata is here. If he smells a whiff of something weird, you know how he gets. He’ll turn the place upside down and make sure everyone knows in advance.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about him. I asked at the hotel, and he’s been here for a few days already. That means he got here when we were still planning that painting heist in Paris, so there’s no way his reason to be here has anything to do with us. It’s just a coincidence,” Fujiko said, and though everything she said made sense, it was hard to believe.

“That’s one hell of a coincidence that all three of us ended up in this little village at the exact same time,” Jigen grumbled and began to look for a cigarette in his pocket. He glanced at Fujiko from under his hat. “In fact, didn’t you tell Lupin that you could find out where Zenigata is? And now you’re saying you just happened to end up in the same place. I don’t buy it.”

“Then don’t. But I’m not lying. My source said she could tell me where Zenigata is but only if I paid. Lupin didn’t want to foot the bill, so I said no. I don’t care about him. The reason I’m here has absolutely nothing to do with him.”

Jigen agreed with a grunt. Fair enough. Then he thought of something that should have been his number one priority all along.

“Hey, we actually know where Zenigata is right now. Let’s call Lupin.”

“Are you out of your mind? We can’t do that!”

“What do you mean? We have to do that! He’s losing his grip on reality because of this.”

Fujiko let out an irritated puff of air and crossed her arms on her chest. “Did you already forget what happened in Paris? Lupin made a mess of that heist because all he cared about was Zenigata. What do you think will happen if we tell him he’s here? He’ll storm here and blow the lid off this place, and then we can both kiss goodbye to ever finishing our jobs.”

“Yeah, but...” She was right. Admitting it made Jigen feel like he’d downed a bottle of acid, but she was right. Lupin couldn’t be reasoned with at the moment. He’d not give a shit about his hit job or Fujiko’s treasure. It made him feel like he was a horrible friend if he didn’t run to the closest phone to call him right now, but hadn’t Lupin been a damn crappy friend recently, too?

“A week, you said?”

“If all goes well, yeah.”

“Make it two, then. Nothing ever goes well for us.”

“Pessimist.”

“Just a realist. So, what’s our cover story going to be? I’m not doing a fake married couple with you, just so you know.”

Fujiko’s laughter washed over him. “As if anyone would buy that! At most, we’d manage to make it look like a couple whose marriage is falling apart. Let’s do something else. How about I’m an up-and-coming movie star, and you’re my bodyguard? That should be easy.”

It sounded easy, yeah. Though he’d gotten better at disguises with Lupin’s help, pretending to be something he wasn’t for a long time was not one of Jigen’s strong suits. He could learn a script but not improvise.

“If I’m your bodyguard, it’ll limit my movements. I need to find my guy.”

“There aren’t a lot of people in the village right now. I’ll be a social butterfly. We’ll meet everybody.”

“Even Zenigata?”

“Would be suspicious if we didn’t. We’ll just have to go to town tomorrow and get good disguises. There’s something I need to check out at the police station anyway, so it’s two birds with one stone.”

“That reminds me, how did you get here? You weren’t on the train. Did you take one in the morning?”

Fujiko looked pointedly down at the clothes she was wearing. “I hiked over the mountain from the next village. There’s a good path. Only takes you half a day.”

“Huh, didn’t think of that. Better keep an eye on it.” It was a good escape route. Jigen had thought that the only way in and out of the village was by train, but of course that was stupid. He had to be careful. If he scared off his target, he could just walk away.

“If you’re planning to go running after someone in the mountains, we need to get you better shoes,” Fujiko said. “In fact, you need better everything.”

“I know. I’m not dumb. Just didn’t think this place would be _this_ cut off from civilization.”

It was too risky to go to the hotel’s restaurant. They combined what little food each had packed for the trip and managed to put together a meal that consisted of cooked rice, canned tuna, raisins for dessert, and instant coffee.

There were enough bedrooms for them both to have their own. The one Jigen took had a window facing the hotel where his target was most likely staying. Once he was in disguise, he’d have all his smoke breaks sitting by it. For now, he pulled the curtains over it and kicked his suitcase under the bed after getting his gun out.

It was pretty damn cozy for a hideout. He almost felt like he was on vacation. The walls and the floor were old hardwood that creaked with every step he took. The stale smell of a house that hadn’t been lived in for a while wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but he’d been looking forward to having flowers on his windowsill.

He was itching to go out and start looking for his target, but with Zenigata around, it was better not to take any risks. For most of the day, he cleaned his gun, took it apart and put it back together a couple of times, counted his bullets, lied on the couch in the living room, and worked his way through his two packs of cigarettes.

Fujiko stayed in her room for most of the day, only showing up when he yelled at her to come down if she wanted any of the leftovers he was heating for dinner.

“Starting tomorrow, we’ll eat at the restaurant,” she said.

“Hey, this isn’t that bad.”

“We don’t have any other excuse to show up there and talk to everybody. Since I’m letting you stay in this house, you’re going to be gentleman and cover the restaurant bill, right?”

“I never thought there’d be a day when I buy you dinner.”

Fujiko stuck out her tongue. “A lot of men would line up for the privilege. Count yourself lucky.”

There was a lot to plan for the following day. Their only option to get around was to take the regional train to the closest town in the morning, then switch to the long-distance train to get to Kreuzfeld, get everything they needed in five hours and hurry or they’d miss the only train back. It was inconvenient, and Jigen wished they had a car. But the only road to the village was mostly used by farmers, so it’d make them stand out too much.

He made them coffee as Fujiko spread all the timetables she’d brought with her on the kitchen table and wrote down a realistic travel plan. Jigen tried to remember if it had ever been just him and her working together before, but he couldn’t recall anything other than trying to tolerate each other for a few hours when Lupin and Goemon were out doing something. It didn’t feel so bad now, maybe because their jobs weren’t connected. He couldn’t say that he trusted her, but he had complete faith in the fact that for as long as it was mutually beneficial for them to stick together, he didn’t have to watch his back.

***

The hotel’s restaurant almost seemed crowded that evening. It was the first time Zenigata saw everyone in one place. He spent the first moments of their supper just watching everybody, trying to see if there was anything off about anyone. Falk was sitting alone as usual, and Zenigata knew this’d be his chance to go and talk to him.

However, before he had time to do that, Irene suddenly addressed everyone in the room.

“Hey, does anyone know where that new guy went?”

“What new guy?” Zenigata asked.

“The one who came by train today. Nellie and I were on our way to the mountains and saw him.”

Maddox turned over to face them in interest. “What did he look like?”

“We were too far to get a good look. But he was dressed like he was going to a funeral. He didn’t look like he was here to enjoy the mountains, but he had a suitcase. So we thought he’d come to stay at this hotel.”

Everyone in the room got a word in. Nobody else had seen this man or had any idea where he could have gone. The woman serving their supper knew that a hiker had shown up earlier that day to use the phone but had gone back to the other side of the mountain, apparently. It had been James manning the reception then, so she couldn’t say for sure.

Zenigata exchanged a look with Maddox. That didn’t sound good. Strangers showing up and then disappearing right away was trouble. He’d thought they were keeping a careful eye on things, but if it was that easy to slip into the village and back again without them noticing…

“I took a photo of the man,” Nellie said when the conversation began to quiet.

“You did? Can I have it?” Zenigata asked.

“Sorry, no. I just started this roll of film. It’ll be a while before it’s ready to be developed.”

“I’ll buy you two new rolls if you let me have that one!”

“Well… Uh...”

Irene put a hand on Nellie’s arm and looked at Zenigata with her brows lifted curiously. “Why are you so interested?”

“I’m not… There’s just so little going on that… Never mind.” Zenigata smiled nervously and turned his eyes down to his food. If only he could reveal that he was in the law enforcement, he could just confiscate the camera. He needed to see the man who’d arrived. Since he’d disappeared immediately, the chances that he was a hitman out to get Donna were dangerously high.

That night, he thought about Nellie’s camera until he fell asleep. He had a nightmare in which it was rolling down the side of a mountain and he was running after it, never getting close enough to grab it. When he woke up, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all and decided to forget about the camera at least until he’d had some coffee.

However, as he was pulling on his pants, a commotion started in the hallway. Irene was running up and down, banging on all the doors, and demanding to know which one of them had broken into their room during the night and stolen Nellie’s camera.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it took me this long to update, but I just got buried under work. This chapter is mostly build-up for things to come, but the next one will be a big game changer.

Zenigata opened the door and pushed his head outside to see what was going on. People were coming out of their rooms to ask Irene why she was causing such a scene. He joined them to listen.

“Somebody broke into our room last night and took Nellie’s camera!” Irene was saying to the German couple and Falk. 

“Why would anybody do that?” the old woman asked. Zenigata had managed to say hello to her and her husband after dinner the previous evening, so he knew now that they were Werner and Ilse Lenz and came to spend every fifth summer at the village. It was where they’d originally met and fallen in love. That was a story he could easily check with locals, so he wasn’t suspicious of them, at least right now.

“Obviously someone wanted the photo we talked about,” Irene said and gave Zenigata a meaningful glare.

“It wasn’t me! I didn’t take the camera!”

“You’re the only one who wanted the photo. You insisted!”

“I was just curious! I’m not a thief!”

It was laughable. He was the antithesis of a thief! On one side of the coin, there’d be Lupin’s cheeky grin, and on the other, the determined face of the man who’d dedicated his life to catching him. To call him a thief was an insult.

“And where’s your proof?” Irene asked and tapped a finger against his chest.

“My what?”

“You have a room all to yourself, right? It’d be the simplest thing to slip out at night, break into ours and -”

“People are innocent until proven otherwise!”

“He didn’t do it. I was with him all night.”

They all turned to look when Maddox appeared from her and Donna’s room. She was wearing only a bathrobe that was in danger of sliding off one shoulder, like she’d thrown it on in haste. Her dark hair was a mess. There was an urgent tone in her voice that Zenigata hadn’t heard before, but it was her words that struck all breath out of his lungs.

“Uh.. Ah… What...”

Maddox put a firm hand on his arm and pinched him to make him shut up.

“I was in his room last night,” she said to Irene. “There’s no way he’s the one who took the camera.”

“Then who was it?” Irene asked, but a lot of the fight had left her. She didn’t seem willing to ask Maddox for any details, for which Zenigata was grateful. He didn’t want to hear what she might say if prodded for more.

“How did the thief get into your room? Did he break the lock?” he asked. Unable to keep his curiosity in check, he went to take a look at the door to the women’s room. Maybe the thief had picked the lock. It wouldn’t even take much skill since all the locks were decades old and there was no security system at the hotel.

“I don’t think so. We didn’t hear anything,” Irene said. 

“What about the window? What if the thief climbed in, took the camera and left the same way?” Falk suggested.

“Maybe. It wasn’t locked. But surely we would have heard that,” Irene said.

Not if the thief was any good. Zenigata knew not everyone could move like Lupin, but surely anyone with some experience was able to open a window and climb inside. On the other hand, the room was upstairs, so…

“Whose room is this?” Zenigata asked and pointed at the door that was to the left from Irene and Nellie’s. The women’s room was at the end of the hallway. If someone wanted to reach their window, the easiest way was to get on the balcony of this room first.

“That’s mine. Why?” Falk asked.

“Never mind. I’m just thinking.” Would Falk bring up the window if he’d done it? Probably not, unless he wanted to appear clueless. It was worth considering that out of all the guests, the two of them were the only ones who didn’t share a room with anyone. He could have done anything at night, and nobody would know.

“In that case, I’ll be going downstairs for breakfast. I’ve already wasted enough time. I’m behind my schedule,” Falk said. He was carrying his usual backpack, so Zenigata knew he was going up to the mountains again. He needed to find out just what he did there all day long, but now this camera business had gotten in the way.

Zenigata took one last close look at the lock and handle on the door to the women’s room. As suspected, no marks. There might be fingerprints if the thief was an idiot, but there was no way to know. Lupin wasn’t an idiot - at least, not like this - so Zenigata had never developed the habit of carrying around a fingerprint kit.

“Let’s all head down for breakf - ow!” 

The door opened and hit him in the forehead. He stumbled back and fell on his butt on the floor just as Nellie poked her head out of the room.

“Irene! Did you find my camera yet?”

“No. I think we’re going to have to check everybody’s rooms and luggage.”

“Hey, that isn’t allowed! You aren’t the police,” Zenigata said as he picked himself up.

“So? We’re just going to ask everybody first. Anyone who refuses must have something to hide,” Irene said.

“You can’t just do whatever you want!” People couldn’t take these matters into their own hands! There were procedures to follow, and the first one was to call the authorities if something was stolen. In fact, that might be exactly what they needed. If the police showed up, any hired killer might think twice about targeting Donna while the camera investigation was going on.

Then again, it was just a camera. Zenigata doubted that they’d do much. They’d need a dead body to get this village crawling with police, and that was exactly what he was here to prevent.

Everybody agreed to go downstairs for breakfast. Zenigata thought it’d be his chance to talk to Falk, but Maddox grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into her and Donna’s room.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Yeah! I can’t believe you told them that you spent the night in my room! They will think that we… you know...”

The look Maddox gave him could only be described as exhausted. “I know. That’s the point. It made that hag back off and gave you an alibi. We have a holiday romance going on, remember? It’s not a big deal.”

Zenigata thought it was a huge deal. How could he face the other guests now when they all thought that he and Maddox were sleeping together? A holiday romance didn’t necessarily have to go that far. It could be just holding hands, going for walks in the Alps, and sharing addresses so they could write letters later, right?

“This camera business is really weird,” Maddox said. “Who else but us would care about the photo?”

Zenigata had no answer to that. Everyone had been present when Irene and Nellie had talked about the man they’d photographed, but he couldn’t imagine why anyone else would want to steal the camera.

“I wonder if there’s a place to develop film around here,” he said. If not, the culprit would have to take a train and go to town.

“Good point. If we just keep an eye on who comes and goes, we should figure out who it is. Assuming that it’s the picture the thief was after. I saw that camera yesterday. It’s the kind that professionals use. Maybe we just have a thief among us who saw an opportunity to grab something valuable.”

“Hmm.” Zenigata rubbed his chin thought. That was the most mundane explanation, but his gut said there was more to this.

Donna came out of the bathroom, giving her hair a final touch before tossing the brush on her bed.

“You two just have to talk business all the time, huh? I’m hungry, so I’m heading downstairs already.”

“Don’t leave the hotel,” Maddox said, and Donna made a lazy gesture with her hand to show that she’d heard her.

“In any case,” Maddox went on, “I doubt the camera is important. Let’s not get carried away and forget why we’re here.”

Zenigata agreed that the camera and who’d taken it weren’t their concern, but that changed nothing about the core of the problem - that an unknown man had arrived in the village the previous day. Now if ever was the time to keep an eye on Donna, so he told Maddox he’d go downstairs to have breakfast with her.

As he walked through the reception area and saw the desk, now empty, a thought crossed his mind. Perhaps the reason nobody had heard anything at night was that the thief had had a key. James had been off duty when they’d talked about the photo, but if someone had told him…

He was greeted by a loud racket of conversation when he arrived at the restaurant. Almost everyone was there, talking about what had happened last night. Zenigata scanned the room for Donna, but to his surprise, she wasn’t among the guests.

“Hey, where’s Donna?” he asked when James was about to walk past him and return to his desk.

“She went out. You just missed her,” he said.

“What? Why didn’t you stop her?”

“Stop her? Why? If she wants to go out with that loser -”

Zenigata took another look at the room to see who else was missing. Falk’s table had a plate and a pile of almost untouched food, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Had Donna left with him? What could she possibly be after?

“Do you know where they went?” he asked.

“To the mountains, I guess. Where else? That guy spends all his time there.”

“Thanks,” Zenigata muttered and turned back. He stormed out the front door and stopped to look in all directions, just in case he’d still catch a glimpse of the duo. They couldn’t have gone far. But even that could be too much. There were countless places for a sniper just in the village, not to mention the surrounding area. Someone could push her off a cliff, stab her, beat her to death, drown her in the lake, and that was just the beginning of the horrible list that ran through his mind.

Just as he was about to lose hope, he spotted two figures on the path that went up to the mountains. It was a hiking route that connected the village with the one on the other side of the peak. He’d taken a look at a map at the reception, and while the main route was in use and maintained, all the other ones had been left to bear the burden of time and weather. Taking a detour off the main route would be insanity, so he knew there was only one way they could go.

If he ran, he’d catch them. Running had become one of his strong points over the years. It only took him about five minutes to reach them as they were moving at a snail’s pace, occasionally stopping so that Falk could point something out to Donna by the side of the path.

“Hey, you two! Stop right there!”

As he got closer, he caught a glimpse of the view to his left. His legs slowed down on their own. He wasn’t high up yet, but even from here, the village with the lake in the middle and the mountains circling it from all sides, apart from the valley where the train tracks were, stole his breath away. The sky above them was endless and blue. He felt so small and yet like he was the king of the world.

This. This had to be why Donna had followed the botanist to the mountains. She wanted a moment of freedom. Zenigata almost felt guilty that he’d have to be the one to put her back in her cage, but it was for her own good.

Donna and Falk had turned around upon hearing his voice and were waiting for him to get to them. Both wore unhappy frowns, especially Donna who looked ready to push him and make him roll back to the village.

“You said you wouldn’t leave the hotel,” Zenigata said to her.

“I said nothing.”

“Come on, don’t act like you’re ten. Let’s get back.”

Falk cleared his throat. “Correct, she’s not ten. So why can’t she go on a walk with me? You aren’t even family.”

“Her sister asked me to get her. It’s not wise to go out in the mountains with strange men.”

Donna rolled her eyes while Falk let out an offended sound. He took off his glasses and pointed at Zenigata with one of the temple tips.

“Look, there’s nothing strange about me. I’m perfectly respectable. You’re the one who’s acting like a creep. She told me all about how you’re forcing her to stay in her room all day. That’s not normal.”

Zenigata wanted to tell him not to stick his nose into things he didn’t understand, but most of his anger was meant for Donna. She had a lot of nerve, filling this guy’s head with some sob story about a strict sister and her guy who were being horrible to her. Perfect excuse for anyone who fancied himself a gentleman to step in as her knight in shining armor.

“Let’s go,” he said. He wanted to grab her arm, but he knew it’d just make him look like the bad guy.

“Nothing’s going to happen if I just take a quick walk. I’ll come back in half an hour.”

“That’s not what we agreed.”

Donna cocked her hips to the side and placed her hands on them. “Oh? And what will you do? You can’t take me back by force.” 

“You’re right. But you can’t make me leave, either. I’m staying with you until you stop being foolish and come back.”

“What? That’s stupid!”

“Don’t I get any say in this?” Falk asked.

“No,” Zenigata said.

Falk put his glasses back on with a huff, but he was clearly not the type to pick a fight. Maybe that was how Donna had ended up in his company in the first place. Based on what she’d said before, Falk wasn’t interested in socializing with the other guests. Maybe she’d just tacked along and said she wanted to go with him. In fact, considering his untouched breakfast, she’d probably pulled him along by force.

As much as the situation frustrated and worried him, the silver lining was that he could finally talk to Falk and learn something about him and what he was doing in the village. Zenigata fought with himself until he’d managed to swallow most of his anger and then made sure they were walking in a line so that Donna was between him and Falk. She agreed to that, at least.

He watched their surroundings as they walked, trying to guess where a killer might strike from. The mountains didn’t have as many places to hide as he’d feared - some lone trees here and there, rocks and their shadows, bushes off the path. He reasoned that since Donna’s little act of defiance had come out of nowhere, it was unlikely anyone was ready to ambush them. Danger would strike from below, behind their backs.

Good thing he was so tall and had wide shoulders. If there was any justice in the world, the killer’s bullet would hit him instead. _Then_ she’d have to admit she’d been wrong and that leaving the hotel had been a terrible idea. She’d cry by his hospital bed and say she was so sorry.

“So, I hear you’re from Sweden,” Zenigata said. 

“Yes, it’s my first time out of the country, actually.”

“Oh? Why did you decide to come to this little village? There are much more interesting places.” And Sweden had a lot of small villages, too, so it couldn’t be the novelty factor. There were mountains in Sweden as well. A social reason was just as unlikely since Falk spent no time talking to anyone.

“I’m looking for something.”

“What is it? Some kind of treasure?” Donna asked.

“I guess you could say that...”

“That’s amazing! Let me help!”

“Out of the question,” Zenigata said. It was hard enough to protect this flighty young woman from assassins. The last thing they needed was her running head-first into danger and breaking her neck in the mountains. And Falk shouldn’t be doing that, either.

“If you know there’s something valuable out here, you should inform the authorities. Trying to find it yourself is asking for trouble,” he said. He’d sometimes thought about writing his memoirs, and he was sure he could fill multiple volumes with nothing but treasure hunts that he’d gotten involved with while following Lupin’s trail.

Of course, he’d never write his memoirs now. There would be no happy ending, but even a tragedy would have been better than the deflated sense of defeat. He’d never gotten Lupin. The show would go on without him.

“It’s not valuable,” Falk said. “If we’re talking money, I mean.”

Donna’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Then what are we talking about?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you… I’m a little worried about other people finding it first. It’s kind of personal.”

“We have no time to run around the mountains looking for anything,” Zenigata said. He couldn’t help but be curious, too. The fact that there was no money involved just made it more interesting because then it could be sentimental, and he was always up for stories like that.

Falk turned to look at them over his shoulder, temptation written all over his face. He wanted to talk, Zenigata realized and felt his mood improve. He almost never met people who made his job easier.

“I guess it won’t hurt if I tell you something,” Falk said. He stopped on the path and turned around, lowering his backpack to the ground so he could rummage inside it. He pulled out a book, its covers old, worn-out leather, and showed it to them but didn’t open the pages.

“My grandfather travelled through these mountains once, long ago. This is the journal he kept. And in here, he wrote about -”

Donna snatched the book from him and opened a random page, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Yes? Did he find gold? Diamonds? Buried coins?”

“Of course not! I told you it wasn’t money!” Falk said with some annoyance in his voice and took the book back. He slammed it shut and put it back in his bag, and Zenigata figured that any chance of getting a look at it was now lost.

“What was it?” he asked.

“He ran into an interesting flower during his travels. At first he thought it was the edelweiss, but the petals were different enough that he realized it was something else. He drew it in his journal, and I’m sure it’s a new type, or maybe a mutation. I want to find it.”

“I see. A discovery like that wouldn’t make anyone rich. You’re doing it for science? You want your name in the history books?” Zenigata asked.

“Nothing that grand. I’m just a hobbyist. But since my grandfather found the flower, I want to make sure he gets credit, even if it’s posthumously and only in some footnote.”

It was a noble quest, Zenigata thought, to try to make sure your family name was remembered. Even if it was a small thing, he knew all too well how much it mattered to know that one of your ancestors had achieved something. He felt tempted to take Falk off his list of suspects since he was clearly a kindred spirit, but he had no proof anything he’d just said was true.

“What will you do if you find the flower?” he asked.

Falk laughed, sounding embarrassed. “That’s a good question. I was so excited to get here that I didn’t think about that. I guess I should make a trip to town and buy a camera.” Then, his eyes widened in alarm. “I did not steal that woman’s camera!”

He turned over his backpack and poured everything inside on the ground. Sure enough, all that came out was the journal, rope, a packed lunch and a first-aid kit that was nowhere near big enough to contain Nellie’s camera. Zenigata supposed he could have hidden it somewhere, but he wasn’t about to waste his time with that argument.

Besides, stealing the camera when he hadn’t even found the flower yet would be ridiculous and risky. The thief had to be after something else. Zenigata was sure it was something Nellie had photographed - either the mysterious man from the day before, or something he didn’t know about yet.

“I don’t care who stole the camera,” he said. He couldn’t stick his nose everywhere without a good reason, as Maddox had said. He had to appear like he was a tourist.

“I do,” Donna said. “It’s the only exciting thing that has happened here since our arrival. I bet it was that German couple. They act so nice all the time, but maybe they’re professional thieves.”

“Can’t be very good thieves if they’re stealing cameras in the middle of nowhere,” Zenigata mused. A real thief with some professional pride wouldn’t come to a place like this unless he was after something special, like the diamond necklace of a rich heiress, or secret gold hidden in the mountains. And since they had neither heiresses nor lost treasure around here, he doubted he’d see any world-class thieves during his stay.

“Maybe,” Donna agreed, and Zenigata could tell she’d already lost interest in the camera. Instead, she grabbed Falk by the arm and began to pull him along the mountain path. “Come on, I’ll help you find the flower!”

“I don’t think it’s this way. Someone would have seen it. It’s got to be somewhere along the routes that are no longer in use, but -”

“Then let’s go there!”

“That’s too dangerous!” Zenigata said.

“Exactly,” Falk said. “I don’t want to worry about anyone else if I go climbing. Do you even have any outdoor experience?”

“You could teach me,” Donna suggested. Based on the surprised look on Falk’s face, Zenigata guessed it wasn’t often that women sought out his company. He could relate.

“Uh… well… I’m not much of a teacher, to be honest...”

“But I’m a good student. That’s got to balance it out, right?”

Zenigata cleared his throat and hoped she’d get a little less obvious. He wasn’t here to be her chaperone.

“Isn’t it about time we start heading back?” he asked. He turned around to look down at the village, trying to see if anyone was following them or hiding further below on the path. But the view couldn’t have been more peaceful, short grass everywhere he looked and the sky clear of clouds.

“Come on, just a little longer. We should sit down and enjoy the sun before the day gets too hot,” Donna said. She tugged at Falk’s arm and pulled him away from the path, then pushed him down so that he was sitting on the grass.

“I’m not much of an outside person,” Falk said. He got a giggle out of Donna as she sat down by his side, much closer than Zenigata considered appropriate between strangers.

“What do you mean? You’re outside all day long!”

“It’s out of necessity! If I had a choice, I’d be back home in my greenhouse.”

“You could have sent somebody else to find the flower,” Zenigata pointed out. He didn’t sit but remained standing in the middle of the path, gazing down at the village to spot any suspicious movement. The wind felt good on his face. He imagined he had the eyes of a hawk.

“Never. This is my odyssey.”

“Ooh, I like men who’re ready to work for their dreams,” Donna said. Zenigata wondered if he should remind her that she’d told him she had a boyfriend back home, but then he decided it was none of his business. Maybe it wasn’t even true. Maybe she’d just been told to say that as part of her backstory.

He listened to the awkward conversation for a while. Donna acted like she was _so_ interested in Falk’s greenhouse, what kind of flowers he was growing and what it was like, and made a show of wanting to visit to see them for herself. Perhaps it was genuine, Zenigata couldn’t say, but his instinct said these two weren’t each other’s type.

Then again, he thought, shoulders slumping - he and Lupin weren’t each other’s type either, and here he was. Nursing a broken heart. Hopefully he’d get to see Donna and Falk fair better, even if just for their brief stay in the village. She deserved something nice in her life.

Twenty minutes in, he decided he’d been nice enough.

“You can continue this at dinner tonight,” he said and gestured for Donna to get up and follow him back to the village. To his surprise and relief, she obeyed him now, but they had to stop multiple times on the way because she wanted to turn back and wave at Falk.

And every time, he was watching them and waved back rather than continue upwards.

***

Living in the middle of nowhere sure was a pain in the ass, Jigen thought as they were waiting for the train. Only two trains came all the way to the village every day, one early in the morning and one in the afternoon. Fujiko had cut off his grumbling by reminding him that some places like this had no trains at all, but even she had to admit that it was inconvenient. They didn’t want to be seen in the village until they were in disguise, but there was nowhere to hide at the station if someone wanted to take the same train.

So far, luck had been on their side. They hadn’t run into anyone on their way from their house, and even the station was deserted. His first thought had been that something was wrong and they were walking into a trap, but Fujiko had assured him it was normal. Only tourists and hotel staff were staying over in the summer, and they didn’t need to take the train every morning.

“Doesn’t hurt to be careful anyway,” he’d muttered.

“You’re just on edge because I made you leave your hat at the house.”

Chances were that even Zenigata would have to look twice to recognize him without his hat. Fujiko had cut her hair since the last time he’d seen her. If they just didn’t run into him, they could come back in proper disguises and have one thing less to worry about.

They got off the train in Kreuzfeld. It wasn’t the biggest town in the area, but Fujiko wanted to visit the local police station to get information.

“What makes you think they’ll talk to you?” he asked.

Fujiko took a fake ID from her pocket and flashed it at him. It said she was an inspector from Zurich. She had to have gotten it done in record time since she’d just taken this job, and Jigen had to wonder just where she got all her resources from. She didn’t put in this kind of effort when working with the rest of them. Then again, Lupin was such a multi-tasker and attention hog that she didn’t really need to.

He wanted to know what she was after, but he was worried that if he stuck his nose into her business, he’d end up so deep in trouble that he couldn’t climb back up. He had enough to worry about with trying to find Miller while pretending to be Fujiko’s bodyguard _and_ staying the hell away from Zenigata.

At the same time, he figured that if he was cozying up to Fujiko for this job, he’d want there to be as few surprises as possible. Some were inevitable. She and Lupin were too alike, and neither would ever spill all their secrets willingly.

“What’re you hoping to get out of the cops?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, I do. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises if your plan blows up in your face. I don’t care about your damn treasure, so you don’t have to hide this from me.”

It was his way of telling her she could trust him - even if he wasn’t sure if he could ever trust her in return. He was a sucker like that. One of his biggest weaknesses was that even if he wasn’t interested in women, he still liked being the man they turned to for help when they had nobody else left. The fact that Fujiko didn’t need a hero was both the best and most frustrating thing about her. Jigen was relieved he’d never sink as deep with her as with some others, but with that path blocked, he wasn’t really sure what else to do with her.

“Okay,” she agreed. Jigen tried not to read so much into one word, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was being put to a test, that if he failed her expectations here, she wouldn’t talk to him like this again. And the fact that _she_ of all people had the nerve to demand loyalty from anyone was so laughable that Jigen couldn’t even be angry about it. At least not at her. He’d probably cuss himself out when this adventure was over.

“You might have already heard about it, but the snow at the top of the mountains melted this summer, and a body washed down. It’s being kept at the police station in Kreuzfeld while they’re trying to find out who he was.”

Jigen hadn’t heard about it, but he let out a noise to show he was listening.

“I’m pretty sure the body belongs to someone who was looking for the treasure I’m after. I’ll have to make sure and go over every item they found on him.”

“What are you hoping to find? A map?”

“Actually, yes.”

“That’d make this pretty simple,” Jigen muttered. Things were never that easy when he was involved. He wondered if his bad luck would rub off on her. “So, what’s the treasure?”

“An influential family used to live in these parts. Some time in the 17th century, their business failed but rather than pay off the debtors with the family heirlooms, the two brothers in charge hid everything somewhere here and fled the country.”

Jigen scratched his beard, feeling a little sad that it was just him and Fujiko. This was the kind of story that Lupin would have loved to hear.

“What makes you think either of them didn’t come back and take the treasure back long ago?” he asked.

“I have no way of being sure. But the information that was sold to me apparently comes directly from a descendant of one of the brothers. The story has been passed down for all these generations. If the treasure is gone, one of the brothers never got the memo.”

“This sounds fishy. You actually paid for that info? I thought you were cleverer than that. What if it’s all lies or too vague to lead anywhere?”

Fujiko huffed at him. “Let me finish! According to the story, the brothers made a map. And being suspicious of each other, they cut it in half so that neither would be able to come back alone. The person who sold me my information is the last of her line, eighty years old and dying. She says that when she was young, she planned to elope with a man below her social standing. She gave him her family’s half of the map so he could find the treasure and they’d be able to start a new life together. That was over sixty years ago. She never heard from him again.”

“Well, that’s sad,” Jigen muttered.

Fujiko smiled and looked out the train window. “He could have just been lying to her the whole time so he could have the treasure all for himself. Men do that, too.”

“You think that’s what happened?”

“I hope not. If that mysterious body is him, he should still have the map among his belongings. And for the record, all I had to pay for this information was the promise that I’d make sure the old lady’s first love is sent home so she can bury him. Not a bad deal, huh?”

“But even so, what about the other half of the map? The guy who tried to find the treasure without the full thing ended up dead.”

“Amateurs usually end up dead,” Fujiko said. “I’ll make do. There’s no way to find the other half of the map on such short notice anyway. I don’t even know where to start. People change names and things get lost. I’m lucky this just fell into my lap.”

What she said made Jigen recall something from before. After the failed painting heist, Fujiko had contacted someone and had been told that information about Zenigata and his whereabouts could be bought. He hadn’t thought about it more at the time because he’d been too outraged by Lupin’s refusal to get the scoop and put this sorry mess behind them, but now he had to wonder.

“How do you get your hands on all this info?”

“Like I’d tell you _that._ ”

“No, I mean in general. You’ve got someone who collects information and offers to sell you things that might interest you? That’s the only way you can stay on top of so many things.”

“If you already knew the obvious, why did you ask?”

“Your contact said she could sell you Zenigata’s location, right? That means someone else sold the information to her first.”

The way Fujiko raised her brows told him that she realized exactly what he was getting at. Either there was a traitor in the ICPO, or someone here at the village had recognized him and sold him out. There were only two reasons to do that. One, his current job was something so important that it would interest people in the underworld. Two, someone had wanted that information to reach Lupin. After he’d announced the painting heist in the papers and practically begged for Zenigata to show up, it was no secret to anyone that he wanted to get in touch with him.

“I’m getting a really bad feeling about this village,” he said.

“Yeah. There are too many strange coincidences,” Fujiko agreed.

“Maybe we should call Lupin after all.”

Fujiko was considering it, he could tell. He hoped she’d see reason. He didn’t need her permission to tell Lupin what was going on, but he’d rather not fight with her over it.

“Maybe tonight,” she said, sounding reluctant. “We’ll have dinner at the hotel and talk to Zenigata to get some clues about why he’s here. If something seems suspicious, we’ll let Lupin know.”

“Look on the bright side. If Lupin storms here and sorts things out with Zenigata, he’s free to help you look for your treasure,” Jigen said. He’d have a much harder time carrying out his hit job, but maybe he could ask Goemon for help. Joseph had told him not to, but Goemon was a pro and wouldn’t blab.

To save time, they agreed that Fujiko would head to the police station on her own while he bought everything they needed for their disguises. She was going to dye her hair blond, cut it even shorter and hide her features from Zenigata with large sunglasses. Jigen didn’t want to do anything long-lasting, especially about his beard, so Fujiko promised to make him a mask. He supposed wearing something other than his suits and not putting on a hat would be enough for the rest. Maybe a turtleneck and a casual jacket if it wasn’t too hot.

By the time he’d gotten everything on their list - enough changes of clothes for them both, make-up, latex and hair care supplies, long-lasting food if they couldn’t eat at the hotel and had to cook, and some things here and there that might be useful - he had trouble carrying everything. He threw himself on a bench in the park where they’d agreed to meet and fanned himself with a newspaper he dug out of a trash can.

He spotted Fujiko about half an hour later. There was a spring in her step that he hadn’t seen in the morning, and he snorted and turned his eyes towards the sky. She’d gotten what she wanted, he guessed. He wondered if there was anything other than money that got her so visibly excited.

“You seem happy,” he said.

“You bet!”

“You got the map, then? Want to show it to me?”

All Fujiko showed him was her tongue. “I told you I’m not going to share. You’ve got your hands full anyway, right?”

Yeah, he had no time to dig around for treasure. While choosing clothes for his disguise, Jigen had picked things that had pockets in slightly different places than he was used to. That way, he could keep his gun on him in case he found his target, but he wouldn’t accidentally pull it out and blow their cover if something startled him. The number of stray cats he’d pointed his gun at was embarrassing, even if his instincts had saved his life more times than he could count.

There was a public restroom where they fixed their disguises so they could return to the village under their new identities. Fujiko was ready to make an entrance as Gloria Masuyama, a Japanese-American movie star about to hit it big.

“I wonder if it’s a good idea to say you’re my bodyguard after all. People will ask what I’m afraid of,” Fujiko said.

“Just say you have a rich father who’s paranoid. I’ve done a few jobs like that.”

“Sounds like easy money. All you have to do is stand around and look competent with no real risk involved.”

“It’s harder than you think.”

“Yeah? How?”

He realized he shouldn’t have said anything. Women with fathers like that wanted to try their wings but not risk _too_ much. Usually, that involved trying to get their bodyguard into their bed. It was bothersome, and he’d much rather deal with someone trying to blow his head off.

“Even if a job looks easy, you can never relax,” he said and was glad she didn’t ask again.

They divided the shopping bags between themselves and took a cab to the train station to get back to the village in time. Fujiko told him that once they arrived, he’d carry everything because a star like her would never as much as lift her own bags. Some of his real clients had tried the same at first, in one memorable instance saying he had to do more than stand around to earn his keep.

“A bodyguard needs his hands free,” he said.

“Then it’s a good thing you aren’t really my bodyguard, huh? Maybe we should say you’re my manager, or a screenwriter looking for inspiration for my next movie.”

“I’ll just stick to what I know best, thanks.”

It was too early to drop by the hotel for dinner when they arrived, so they spent the remaining time in the house, going over the details of their backstories. It was the first time he’d be in disguise for days, Jigen realized. He was used to pretending to be a cop or a construction worker or a cab driver for a little while, but taking up a complex role for long was new.

But it might be fun, too. Lupin always came up with the fake names and backstories for the whole group because he liked to micromanage every detail of their heists. Now that he had complete freedom to do whatever he wanted, it was like having to choose at an all you can eat buffet.

“Jake Starr? That’s what you want to go with?” Fujiko asked when he told her his fake name. Jigen braced himself for laughter.

“It’s what I called myself when I was a kid and played cops and robbers with the other brats. Less danger that I’ll forget to react when someone calls out to me.”

“It sounds like it’s straight out of a comic book.”

“Like you read comic books.”

“Lupin does. He’s got a whole bunch of those Italian cowboy comics at almost every hideout. I browse through them sometimes when I’m bored.”

Jigen decided not to let her know they were actually his.

“Anyway, I’m not changing the name. I like it,” he said. Like hell he’d let Fujiko make him feel embarrassed about his taste in names. Besides, the mask she’d prepared for him made him look like he wasn’t Japanese, so he might just as well go all out.

“With a name like that, you should be my co-star,” Fujiko said.

“I’m a bodyguard.”

Fujiko threw up her hands and sighed, but at least she stopped pestering him. They decided to head to the hotel a little early so that they’d get a chance to look around and talk to people one on one as they trickled in for dinner. Jigen hoped Zenigata wouldn’t cause any trouble. He didn’t feel like a threat when Lupin was around, but he didn’t want to have all that determination directed at him.

There were two people already seated at the hotel’s restaurant when they arrived. Both were women, and the one with red hair turned to stare at them as soon as she noticed them. Fujiko greeted them and chose a table that was in the middle of the small room so that they’d be able to talk to everyone no matter where they were sitting.

“Oh, we haven’t seen you before. I’m Irene, and this is Nellie. Are you staying at this hotel, too?”

They introduced themselves and said they were renting a house because they wanted some more space. Thankfully, Irene was the chatty type, so it took no time at all before Fujiko had gotten the chance to tell them about her movie career and that she was here to enjoy the time between films with an acquaintance. She didn’t say that Jigen was there as her bodyguard, but the way he stayed back, just watching them, probably clued them in.

But even with that in mind, the looks both of the women gave him all through the conversation unnerved him enough that he couldn’t keep quiet about it.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“No, no. I just thought that maybe you’re our mystery man, but you don’t have a beard.”

“Huh?”

“You missed the whole thing since you weren’t here yesterday, but Nellie took a photo of some shady character arriving by train. Dressed in all black, like some kind of a mafia killer. We asked everyone, but nobody knows who he is or where he went, but I bet he’s got something to hide!”

Jigen felt his face grow hot under his mask. To be caught on film like that, how embarrassing. Fujiko would give him an earful when they got back.

“Can I see the photo?” he asked. Maybe Zenigata hadn’t seen it yet. Maybe he could steal it before he did.

“That’s where this gets even more mysterious! Someone broke into our room last night and stole the camera with the film inside. Can you imagine?”

Thankfully, he didn’t have to answer because an old couple arrived and they had to go through introductions once again. He let Fujiko do it and tried to connect the dots in the conversation with Irene. Alright, they’d taken a photo of him, but why would anyone bother to steal the film? Was it because someone already knew he was coming and didn’t want anyone else to find out, or because someone was worried they were being followed?

The second option seemed likely. Miller had to be in disguise as one of the men at the hotel. If Irene and Nellie had blabbed to everyone about the photo, of course Miller would want to see who it was. He might even recognize him since his face was well known in certain criminal circles.

If so, Miller would run. And by doing that, he’d reveal his identity. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad blunder after all.

Finally, Zenigata arrived. He was accompanied by two women, one about in her thirties and the other maybe college age. There was something similar about their faces that made Jigen guess they had to be related, probably sisters. He didn’t think Zenigata had enough time in his life for friends, so there had to be a professional reason he was here.

Zenigata seemed surprised to see them there, his features turning into a confused mask that Jigen had seen many times when he was thinking real hard about some plot of Lupin’s. He didn’t want to give him a chance to jump to hasty conclusions, so he got up and went to greet him while Fujiko was still talking to the old couple from Germany.

“Getting a bit crowded here, huh? Jake Starr. Nice to meet you,” he said and offered Zenigata his hand.

“Likewise. I’m Suehiro Fujita.”

That was unexpected, and Jigen was glad the mask hid some of his surprise or else he would have blown their cover right away. Zenigata was here under a fake identity, too? Just what was going on?

“Here on vacation?” he asked.

“That’s right,” Zenigata said. Then, as if a thought had just hit him, he said, “Isn’t that why everyone is here?”

“Right.” Jigen tried to think fast to find something to talk about, but looking at Zenigata, only Lupin’s face popped into his head. It shouldn’t have been hard to treat Zenigata like a stranger as he knew next to nothing about him as a person. And yet, he’d been a presence - a nuisance - in their lives for so long that it was hard to talk to him like he didn’t know him at all.

Thankfully, Fujiko came over to save him. 

“Since you two are already making friends, why don’t we have dinner together?” she asked, and soon all five of them were seated at the same table. Quick introductions were made yet again. It turned out that Zenigata had gotten to know the pair of sisters upon arriving in the village, and they’d decided to spend their vacations together.

A somewhat believable story, had it not been for his fake identity. Jigen wondered if the two women were in on it with him, or if they were real tourists that Zenigata was just using as a cover. A second later, he felt like an idiot. Zenigata didn’t seem like the type to pull bystanders into his work with lies. But that’d mean there were three ICPO officers at the village. That was too much for some petty crime. Even Lupin never got more than two inspectors after him at the same time.

The most annoying thing was that since Zenigata was undercover, Jigen couldn’t say he’d read in the papers that he’d given up on Lupin and ask him why. If there was a good reason, maybe it’d be enough to make Lupin accept it and go back to normal. Or maybe this was temporary and Zengata would come back soon. Everyone’s lives would be so much easier if they just knew.

It was strange to think that Zenigata could create such chaos and unhappiness, not by arresting them but by disappearing from their lives. Well, Lupin’s life. Jigen couldn’t say he missed him. He would have been ready to pop a bottle. But when Lupin was dispirited, it turned into a cloud of misfortune that rained down on all of them.

Fujiko tried to keep everyone talking, but they didn’t get much useful information. Everyone just seemed to be on vacation, and they were more interested in her movie career than talking about themselves. She was so good at coming off as excited and a little bit too naive for show business that Jigen felt the need to explain he was there to protect her. He didn’t want anyone to think he was some creep director sleeping with his young star who didn’t know any better.

“So, what do you do for a living?” he asked.

Zenigata looked down at his food.

“I’m a teller in a bank in Saitama.” His tone was as if he’d just told them that he was dying.

“Ah. That’s, uh...” Jigen couldn’t call it exciting or interesting, but what else was he to do? Why couldn’t Zenigata put some more character into his fake identity? Why be the most boring person in the world? “You’re pretty far away from home.”

“I’m on vacation,” Zenigata said, even though they’d already established that.

“What about you two? Why come all the way to this little village?” Fujiko asked and nodded towards the two women in Zenigata’s company.

“I just don’t like cities very much. I wanted to experience something real. And who would have thought I’d run into a man like Suehiro in a small place like this?” the older woman, Mary Maddox, said. She placed her hand on top of Zenigata’s and gave his fingers a light stroke. Her sister looked ready to gag.

“We’re a romantic couple,” Zenigata said, like he was reading the product description of an embarrassing type of medicine. His face was beet red, and Jigen was sure that if he lifted his arms, there’d be huge sweat stains on his shirt. What a joke. He almost felt sorry for him.

Then he made the mistake of looking at Fujiko. She caught his eyes, and her face contorted in uncontrolled emotion.

“Excuse me. I have to go to the toilet,” she squeaked and ran out of the dining hall.

Jigen slammed down his fork and knife.

“You know what? Me, too.”

They rushed out of the dining hall and tumbled against the wall in the mercifully empty lobby, shaking with laughter that they were trying to hold in so that nobody would hear. Any time Jigen thought he was going to get a hold of himself, he couldn’t help but think about Zenigata’s pathetic attempt at appearing like he was in love, especially with someone so out of his league, and he lost it again.

Finally, they calmed down enough that it no longer sounded like they were choking on their own breath. Fujiko patted at her eyes with a handkerchief and dug a little mirror from her purse to see how badly her eyeliner was running.

“Good thing we didn’t call Lupin yet,” she said. “He would have blown our cover immediately. There’s no way he could resist such a good opportunity to make fun of him.”

“Yeah. That relationship has to be fake.”

“Obviously,” Fujiko said with a snort.

“Which means that whatever Zenigata is here for, that woman and maybe her sister, too, are in on it with him.”

Fujiko clapped her mirror shut. “Right. We should look into that, just to make sure we know what we might be getting into.”

“He’s not my problem. I’m not planning to stick around after I get my guy.”

“But I am. And aren’t you curious to find out what’s so important that he dumped Lupin for it?”

To be honest, he was. Zenigata was determination and persistence personified, and Jigen couldn’t imagine what might have made him give up chasing Lupin. Those odd times it happened, he was always being pushed around by his superiors. On the surface, this seemed to be one of those occasions, but it didn’t add up. When the ICPO removed Zenigata from the case, it was because they had someone more competent lined up to take his place. That Landheer who’d replaced him was a complete rookie and even less likely to arrest Lupin. 

He doubted Zenigata had been sent here because of a top secret case. For one, what could be worth the ICPO’s attention in the middle of nowhere like this? Fujiko’s treasure was no police matter, and Joseph would have told him if he had to expect this kind of trouble while looking for Miller.

And secondly, even if there was something going on, why would they send Zenigata? Jigen had to admit that the man wasn’t completely incompetent, but chasing Lupin was what he did best. Putting him on another case made no sense.

Lupin would figure it out right away, he thought. He wouldn’t even have to slap on a disguise. If he buttered him up, Zenigata just might talk to him. Their rivalry was weird like that. Jigen didn’t think he’d ever understand, but he didn’t need to. Somehow, it worked, and they both seemed to be better off because of it.

But, he thought as he and Fujiko walked back to the table, Zenigata was here, looking like he wanted to cry into his food when they talked about jobs. And Lupin was close to his snapping point and no doubt dragging Goemon into trouble he didn’t even want to imagine. Everything was off balance at the moment. A little more, and something would come falling down.

Jigen made up his mind. He would call Lupin tonight, no matter what Fujiko had to say about it.


End file.
